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BY THE LATE 



JESSE'S' W&T^EL^W&s J^MT. 




Sketcbed by L. Graner. 

THE MAI SON CARREE, NISMES 



LONDON : 
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 

MDCCCXXXV. 







HI 



THE 



DIARY OF AN INVALID: 



THE JOURNAL OF A TOUR IN 
PURSUIT OF HEALTH, 



PORTUGAL, ITALY, SWITZERLAND, 
AND FRANCE, 

IN THE TEARS 

1817, 1818, and 1819. 
By HENRY MATTHEWS, Esq., A.M., 

tl 

FELLOE OF KTNQ's COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. 



■ talking of the Alps and Apennines, 



The PyTenaean and the River Po. — Shakspeare. 



FIFTH EDITION 




LONDON : 
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE-STREET. 

MDCCCXXXV. 



9' 



M 
\*&- 



LONDON: 

Printed by William Clowes, 
Duke-street, Lambeth. 



ui 



REV. ARTHUR MATTHEWS, B.D. 

FELLOW OF BRAZENOSE COLLEGE, OXFORD, 

AND 

PREBENDARY OF HEREFORD, 

THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED, 



TOKEN OF ESTEEM AND FRIENDSHIP, ' 
BY HIS 
FAITHFUL AND AFFECTIONATE BROTHER, 

THE AUTHOR. 



b 2 



PREFACE. 



The following pages may seem to require some 
apology, being, as they are, the transcript of a 
Journal written to amuse the hours of indisposition, 
without any idea of publication. 

From these materials, I was induced, upon my 
return to England, to begin an account of my travels 
in a more serious and sustained style of composition ; 
but my work was arrested by hearing, from those to 
whose judgment I have deferred, that I was labour- 
ing only to deprive my Journal of almost all that 
made it interesting in its original form ; — like an 
indifferent artist, whose finished picture has often 
less to recommend it, than his first rough sketch 
from nature. Though this may be no excuse for 
publishing a Volume at all ; yet it will at least serve 
to explain why that volume has appeared in its 
present shape. 



VI PREFACE. 

In preparing it for the press, I have been less 
solicitous to add, than to take away : but in adhering 
to the original Diary, it was impossible to avoid 
frequent egotism ; so that if I should be found on 
many occasions, uninteresting, or even impertinent, 
I fear I have nothing to plead in my excuse, but 
must throw myself entirely on the charitable con- 
sideration of the Reader. 



ADVERTISEMENT TO THE 
SECOND EDITION. 



The immediate demand for a new edition of " The 
Diary of an Invalid," has furnished the author with 
a fresh inducement to endeavour, as far as the time 
would permit, to render it less unworthy of public 
attention. 

Some passages have been altered, and some addi- 
tions made ; and, with a view to facilitate the task 
of perusal, the narrative has been broken into 
chapters ; in order that the reader may be conducted 
by easier stages, from one end of the volume to the 
other. 

Without interruptions of this kind, indeed, as 
Fielding says, the best narrative must overpower 
every reader ; for nothing short of the everlasting 
watchfulness which Homer has ascribed to Jove 
himself, can be proof against a continued news- 
paper. 



ADVERTISEMENT TO THE 
THIRD EDITION. 



The progress of a third edition through the press 
affords me another opportunity for revisal and cor- 
rection, of which I would willingly make greater 
use, if I were not called away from the task of 
superintendence to a distant part of the globe. No 
man but he who has tried the experiment knows 
how difficult it is to be accurate. A Book of Travels 
must always be more or less a volume of inaccu- 
racies ; — and I fear that had my endeavours to 
weed out such imperfections been much more 
minute and prolonged, enough would have still 
remained to exercise the patience and require the 
indulgence of the reader. 

H. M. 
London, 29th October, 1821. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

ENGLAND 1 

Departure from England. 2 
Voyage to Lisbon . . 4 
LISBON ..... 9 
Journey to Cintra. . . 12 
Cintra. '.*..., 14 
Police of Lisbon . . .19 
Superstition of the People 20 
Departure from Lisbon . 25 
Voyage to Leghorn . . 27 
Leghorn Roads — Quaran- 
tine 31 

Leghorn 34 

PISA 35 

Cathedral — Leaning Tower 35 
Leave Pisa for Florence . 36 
FLORENCE. ... 36 
Schneiderf's Hotel— Gal- 
lery 37 

The Tribune. ... 38 

Venus de Medicis ... 39 

Statues 41 

Paintings 43 

Pitti Palace — Canova's 

Venus 43 

Italian Masquerades . . 45 

Laurentian Library . . 46 

Countess of Albany . . 47 

Reflections on Painting . 49 

Pitti Collection— Raphael 50 

Gabinetto Fisico ... 54 

Raphael Morghen . . 55 

Bertolini 56 

Mozzi Palace .... 57 

Journey to Rome. . . 58 

Arrival at Rome ... 60 

ROME 61 



Page 

Forum 65 

The Coliseum. ... 66 
Palace of the Caesars. . 67 

Climate 68 

The Tombs .... 69 
The Tiber - . . . .70 
Temple of Vesta . . . 71 
Cloaca Maxima . . .71 
Baths of Caracalla . . 73 
Caracalla's Circus. . . 74 
Fountain of Egeria . . 75 
St. Peter's . ... 76 
Christmas Day ... 87 
Christmas Ceremonies . 88 
Baths of Dioclesian . . 89 
Funeral Ceremonies . . 90 

Palaces 92 

Monte Cavallo ... 94 
Fountains ... 97 

Pantheon 97 

Tarpeian Rock ... 99 
Catacombs '. . . .100 
Close of the Year . .100 
New Year's Day . . .102 
The Pope's Chapel . . 103 
Italian Women . . . 106 
Sistine Chapel — Michael 

Angelo 107 

The Capitol . , . .110 
Cardinal Fesch's Pictures 113 
Mamertine Prisons . . 114 
Canova . . . soc. .116 
Thorwaldson . . . .^18 
The Vatican . . . .119 
Galleries of Raphael . . 120 . 
Chambers of Raphael . 121 
Raphael's Transfiguration 122 
(T 



X 


CONTENTS. 






Pasre 




Pape 


Sacred Staircase • • 


. 129 


Vesuvius . • 


. . . 204 


Robbers .... 


. 131 


Herculaneum 


, . . 205 


Festival of St. Anthony 


. 132 


Lazzaroni . 


. . . 206 


Roman Arts . 


. 133 


Teatro Nuovo « 


. . 207 


Festival in St. Peter's 


. 134 


Ruins. • • 


. • . 208 


Catholic Ceremonials 


. 135 


Opera 


. . . 209 


The Old Romans . 


. 136 


Return to Rome 


, . . 212 


Princess Prossedi 


. 137 


ROME . . 


. . 213 


Lucien Buonaparte — The 


Canova and Thorwaldson 213 


Carnival 


. 138 


Public Execution 


. 214 


Improvvisatrice . 


. 141 


Game of Morra 


. . . 216 


Baths of Titus . . 


. 142 


Excursion to Tivoli . .217 


The Coliseum . . . 


. 144 


Claude Lorraine 


. . . 218 


Masked Ball . . . 


. 149 


Lunatic Asylum 


. . . 219 


English Church . 


. 150 


Roman Politics 


. . 220 


English Ladies . 


. 151 


Italian Superstition . .221 


End of the Carnival . 


. 153 


Italian Comedy 


. . . 221 


j^Egri Somnia 


. 154 


Game of Pallone 


. . 222 


Journey to Naples 


. .156 


Computation of T 


ime . 223 


System of Robbery . 


. 157 


Italian Preaching 


. . 223 


Fondi 


. 159 


Treatment of Robbers • 2 


NAPLES . . . 


. 160 


Serenading 


. . . 227 


Pompeii .... 


. 166 


Paganini . 


. . 229 


Museo Borbonico. 


. 172 


Pope's Blessing 


. . . 230 


Italian Dinners . 


. 178 


Leave Rome for Florence 230 


Evening Parties . 


. 180 


Civita Castellana 


. . 231 


Episcopal Honesty . 


. 182 


Falls ofTerni 


. . . 232 


Neapolitan Army 


. 183 


Journey to Florence . . 234 


Virgil's Tomb 


. 184 


Tuscan Agricultu 


•e . . 236 


Strada Nuova. 


. 185 


Return to Florence . • 339 


Pozzuoli — Baia; • 


. 186 


FLORENCE , 


. . 240 


Monte Nuovo 


. 187 


State of Society in Italy 240 


Avernus — Tomb of Sci| 


)io 188 


Caviliere Servente . . 241 


Solfatara .... 


. 189 


The Venus 


. . 245 


Grotta del Cane . 


. ]90 


Italian Language, 


. . 249 


S. Nicolo — S. Severo 


. 191 


Fiesole 


. . 246 


Sirocco Wind 


. 192 


Italian Spring 


. . 250 


The Pope and King 


of 


Leave Florence foi 


Bologna 251 


Naples. 


. 192 


BOLOGNA . . 


. . 253 


Gaming Table . . 


. 194 


Journey to Venice • . 255 


Quay 


. 197 


VENICE . . 


. . 255 


Burial of the Dead 


. 197 


St. Mark's . . 


. . 255 


Catholic Ceremonials 


. 198 


Ducal Palace. 


. . 257 


Portici Museum . . 


. 200 


Fall of Venice . 


. . 258 


Murat 


. 201 


Albergo Favretti . 


. . 260 



CONTENTS. 



XI 



Paee 
Titian — Arsenal . . .261 

Galileo's Tower ... 262 

Gondolas — Rialto . . 263 

Gold Chain xManufacture 264 

Armenian Convent . . 265 

Leave Venice for Milan . 266 

Vicenza 267 

Verona 268 

Napoleon Buonaparte . 269 

Austrian Dominion . . 272 

Plain of Lombardy . . 274 

Journey to Milan . . 274 

Arrival at Milan . . . 275 

MILAN 276 

Cathedral 277 

Mint 277 

Amphitheatre .... 278 

Triumphal Arch . • . 279 

Marionettes .... 280 
Milanese Honesty . .281 

LakeofComo . . . 282 
Lago Maggiore . . .285 

JBorromean Isles . • . 285 

Reflections on Prescience 286 

Simplon Road ... 287 

Goitres 292 

Cretins 292 

ThePisse-Vache. . . 293 

Bex— Villeneuve . . 294 

Arrival at Lausanne . . 295 

Excursion to Martigny . 296 

Inundation at Martigny . 297 

Mont St. Bernard . . 298 

Convent of St. Bernard . 299 

Return to Lausanne . . 301 

LAUSANNE. ... 302 

M. de Seigneux • . • 302 

Government . . . . 303 

Revolution .... 304 

Police 305 

Sabbath 306 

BERN 307 

Swiss Constitution . . 309 
Lake ofThun . . .311 
Fall of the Staubach . .312 



Page 
Grindelwald . ... 312 
The Glaciers . . . ,312 
Interlaken .... 315 
Lake of Brienz . . . 316 
Falls of theGiesbach. .317 
Canton of Untervvalden . 318 
Cantonal Governments . 318 
LUCERNE .... 320 

Schwytz 321 

Ecroulement of the Ross- 
berg 322 

Falls of the Rhine . . 323 
Swiss Manufactures . . 324 

Zurich 326 

Zug 327 

Rigi 328 

Management of Cattle . 329 
Lausanne — Swiss Honestv330 



GENEVA . . 


. . 332 


Ferney. • . . 


. . 333 


Vokaire . 


. . 334 


Valley of Chamouni 


. . 337 


Chamouni 


. . 337 


Mer de Glace. 


. . 338 


Album at Mon tan vert 


. 339 


Album at Chamouni 


. . 340 


Mont Blanc . . 


. . 341 


Aix, in Savoy 


. . 342 


Chambery 


. 343 


Road to Lyons . 


. . 343 


LYONS . . . 


. . 344 


Journey to Montpelli< 


it . 346 


Scenery of the Rhone 


J . 348 


Tain — Valence . 


. 349 


Military Mania . 


. . 349 


Loriol 


. 350 


Revolutionary Horror 


s . 352 


Languedoc Kitchen 


. 354 


Languedoc 


. . 355 


NISMES. . . 


. . 356 


MONTPELLIER 


. . 357 


Climate . • 


. . 358 


Partv Spirit • 


. 359 


Conscription . 


. 360 


Property Tax . 


. 362 



Xll 



CONTENTS. 



Page 
Conscripts . . 364 

Buffon . . . . .365 
The Iron Mask . . .367 

Rousseau 369 

Journey to Toulouse • . 371 
Beziers . . . , . 372 
Canal of Languedoc . • 373 
Arrival at Toulouse . . 374 
TOULOUSE. . . .. 375 
Jean Calas .... 376 
Battle of Toulouse . . 377 
French Politics . . . 379 

Theatre 383 

La Fontaine . . . .383 
Law of Elections . . . 385 
Recruiting .... 387 
Mayors — Theatre . . 388 
L'Ecole Royale ... 389 
French Cookery . . .391 
French Cleanliness - . . 393 
Theatre ....'. 395 
Criminal Procedure . . 397 
New Year's Day. . .401 
Party Spirit . . . .402 
Prefect's Ball . . . 403 
Mass for Louis XVI. . . 403 

Theatre 404 

Missionaries. . . . 405 
Law of Elections . . 407 
French Revolution . . 408 
Convent . . . . .410 
Profession of a Novice . 411 
Missionaries . . . .412 
Racine . . . . .413 
French Drama . . .414 
Departure from Toulouse 422 
Voyage down the Garonne 423 



Page 
Arrival at Bourdeaux . 424 
BOURDEAUX . . . 425 

Theatre 425 

Talma 426 

French Wines . . . 428 

Talma 430 

Leave Bourdeaux for Paris 432 

TOURS 433 

AMBOISE .... 434 
Scenery of the Loire . . 435 
State of Society in France 436 
French Law of Inheritance 438 
Versailles .... 440 
Entrance to Paris . . 441 
Comparison of London with 
Paris . .. . . . 442 

PARIS 442 

Restaurateurs . . . 446 

St. Cloud 447 

Catacombs .... 448 
Palais Luxembourg . . 451 
Chamber of Deputies . 452 
Theatre Francais . . 456 
French Opera . . . 460 
The Louvre ... . .460 
French Women . . . 462 
Gaming-tables .. . . 465 
Napoleon. .... 466 
Fountain of the Elephant 467 
Gobelin Tapestry. . . 468 
The Deaf and Dumb . . 469 
Leave Paris for Dieppe . 471 
French Character . . 472 
DIEPPE .... 473 

Packet 474 

Conclusion » 474 



DIARY OF AN INVALID, 

S-c. 



CHAPTER I. 

Departure from England — Voyage to Lisbon — Lisbon — Cintra 
— Police of Lisbon — Superstition of the People — Departure 
from Lisbon. 

September 6th, 1817. I believe it is Horace 
Walpole who says — quoting a remark of Gray — 
that if any- man would keep a faithful account of 
what he had seen and heard himself, it must, in 
whatever hands, prove an interesting one. The 
observation would perhaps be strictly true, if no- 
thing were recorded but what really appeared at the 
time to be worth remembering ; whereas, I believe, 
most writers of Journals keep their minds upon the 
stretch to insert as much matter as possible. 

It is not without the fear of affording an excep- 
tion to Mr. Gray's observation, that I begin a brief 
chronicle of what I may think, see, and hear, during 
the pilgrimage which I am about to undertake. 

In obedience to medical advice, I have at last 
determined to set out upon a wild goose chase after 
health, and try, like honest Tristram Shandy, whe- 



2 DEPARTURE FROM ENGLAND. [SEPT. 

ther it be possible to run away from death ; — and, 
in spite of Horace's hint of Mors et fugacem perse- 
quitur virum, I have this day completed the first 
stage of my journey. 

Who has not experienced the bitter feelings with 
which one turns round on the last height that com- 
mands the last view of home ? This farewell look 
was longer than usual, for in my state I can scarcely 
hope ever to see it again. But if, as Pope says, 

Life can little more supply 

Than just to look about us and to die, 

I certainly have no time to lose. 

7th. My flight has been necessarily too rapid to* 
allow any time for the gratification of curiosity on 
this side of the water; and I have passed through 
Gloucester, Bath, and Exeter, without seeing more 
of those places than might be viewed from the 
coach window. 

8th. All I saw of Plymouth was in rowing across 
the Hamoaze, in my way to Tor Point, from whence 
the mail-coach starts. The harbour, full of three- 
deckers, presents a glorious sight; which an Eng- 
lishman cannot look at without feeling that inward 
glorying, and exultation of soul, which Longinus 
describes as the effect of the sublime. At Tor 
Point we found the mail-coach, and after a tedious 
drag, accomplished sixty-five miles in twelve hours. 

Everything in this district savours of the sea. 
The inhabitants are a sort of amphibious race. The 
very coachman partook of the marine nature ; and 
the slang peculiar to his calling was tempered with 



1817.] DEPARTURE FROM ENGLAND. 3 

sea-phrases. The coach was to be under sail at 
such an hour, and it was promoted from the neuter 
to the feminine gender, with as much reason perhaps 
as the ship. At Falmouth I found my brother * 
waiting my arrival ; — whose anxiety respecting my 
health, as it had led him to urge the trial of a 
voyage, determined him also to accompany me 
across the sea. 

10th and 11th. Agonies of deliberation upon my 
future plans. — 

Too much deliberation is certainly worse than too 
little. This difficulty of deciding arises perhaps 
from the wish to combine advantages which are 
incompatible. A man is too apt to forget that in 
this world he cannot have everything. A choice is 
all that is left him. The world was all before me 
where to choose ; — but the difficulty of the choice 
was increased by the arrival of a packet from Lord 
Viscount S., whose obliging kindness, of which I 
am happy to have an occasion of expressing my 
grateful sense, furnished me with passports and 
letters to various quarters ; — for this, by enlarging 
the scope, embarrassed the decision of my plans. 

At last I resolved to embark in the Malta packet, 
with the option of determining my bargain with the 
captain at the first port at which he might touch. 

12th. Received a hasty summons at seven o'clock 
in the evening. The post from London brought 
orders that the Malta packet should carry out the 
Lisbon as well as the Mediterranean mails. In a 
moment all was "bustle! bustle!" On a fine 

* The Rev. A.M. 

b2 



4 VOYAGE TO LISBON. [SEPT. 

starlight evening, the boatmen came to carry us and 
our baggage on board. — Kissed the last stone of 
granite, from which I stepped ; nto the boat, with 
affection and regret. All the pains of parting were 
renewed at this moment; — but, luckily, at such a 
moment, one had scarcely leisure for the indulgence 
of any feelings. In a few minutes we were on 
board; — at ten o'clock the Princess Charlotte 
packet slipped from her moorings, — and we were 
fairly off. 

13th. At daybreak we found ourselves off the 
Lizard, in a dead calm, with a heavy swell. Here 
began the horrors of sea-sickness ! 

Mind cannot conceive, nor imagination paint the 
afflicting agonies of this state of suffering. I am 
surprised the poets have made no use of it in their 
descriptions of the place of torment ; — for it might 
have furnished an excellent hint for improving the 
punishments of their hells. What are the waters 
of Tantalus, or the stone of Sisyphus, when com- 
pared with the throes of sea-sickness ? 

14th. Still in hell. — Here the poor devil is 
confined in a dark and dismal hole, six feet by- 
three, below the level of the water ; with the waves 
roaring in his ears — raging as it were to get at 
him — from which he is only protected by a single 
plank, and with the noises of Pandemonium all 
round him. » 

The depression and despondency of spirit which 
accompany this sickness deprive the mind of all its 
energy, and fill up the last trait in the resemblance, 
by taking away even the consolations of hope — that 






1S17.] VOYAGE TO LISBON. 5 

last resource of the miserable — which conies to all 
— but the damned and the sea-sick. 

16th. Gleam of comfort ! — Began to be recon- 
ciled to the motion of the vessel. Though in the 
hour of sickness I had vowed, as is usual, that if 
fortune should once set me on shore at Lisbon, 
nothing should ever tempt me on shipboard again, 
I now began to contemplate a voyage to Malta with 
some degree of pleasure, and thought no more of 
my vow — than the Devil did of his sick resolution 
to turn Friar. 

17th. A fresh breeze. Our progress has been 
hitherto most favourable. If Neptune himself had 
been shoving us along with his trident, we could 
not have proceeded more directly in our course. 
It must be confessed that a journey by water has 
some advantages over a journey by land. You 
move along without the jolting of ruts, and your 
progress is not impeded by the incidents of eating, 
drinking, and sleeping. But then, nothing can be 
less interesting than the dull uniformity of the sea 
scene. The view, when out of sight of land, is 
much less vast than I had expected. The panorama 
is limited to a little circle of water, seven miles all 
round us. Within the limits of this circle we move 
along, day after day, without the least variety of 
prospect or incident. 

We have not yet encountered a single sail ; and 
I had imagined that, in so beaten a track as we are 
pursuing, we should have met ships as thick as 
stage-coaches on the Bath road. 

18th. The wind died away last night. A dead 



6 VOYAGE TO LISBON. [SEPT. 

calm. — Got up to see the sun rise. Much has been 
said of the splendour of this sight at sea: but I 
confess I think it inferior to the same scene on 
shore. There is indeed plenty of the — " dread 
magnificence of Heaven," — but it is all over in a 
moment. The sun braves the east, and carries the 
heavens by a coup-de-main ; instead of approaching 
gradually, as he does on land, preceded by a troop 
of rosy messengers that prepare you for his arrival. 
One misses the charming variety of the terrestrial 
scene ; — the wood and water ; — the hill and dale ; — 
the " babbling brook;" — the " pomp of groves and 
garniture of fields." At sea, too, all is inanimate; 
for the gambols of the fishes — if they do gambol at 
their matins — are out of sight ; and it is the effect 
of morning on living sentient beings that constitutes 
its great charm. At sea, there is — " no song of 
earliest birds;" — no "warbling woodland;" — no 
"whistling plough-boy:" — nothing, in short, to 
awaken interest or sympathy. There is magni- 
ficence and splendour — but it is solitary splendour. 

Let me rather see — " the morn, in russet mantle 
clad, walk o'er the dew of yon high Malvern hill." 
But, alas ! — when am I likely to behold this sight 
again ? 

In the evening, I sat on the deck to enjoy the 
moonlight. If the sunrise be best seen on shore, 
the moonlight has the advantage at sea. At this 
season of repose, the absence of living objects is not 
felt. A lovely night. — The moon, in this latitude, 
has a silvery brightness which we never see in 
England. — It was a night for romance; — such as 



1817.] VOYAGE TO LISBON. 7 

Shakspeare describes, when Troilus sighed his soul 
to absent Cressid; — the sea, cairn and tranquil as 
the bosom of innocence; — not a breath of air; — 
while the reflection of the moon and stars, and the 
gentle rippling of the water against the sides of the 
vessel, completed the magic of the scene. 

Sat with my face turned towards England, ab- 
sorbed in the reflections which it is the effect of 
such a night to encourage ; — and indulged in that 
secret devotion of the heart, which, at such seasons 
particularly, the heart loves to pay to the absent 
objects of its affections. 

19th. A foul wind. A poor little bird, of a 
species unknown in England, alighted on the steers- 
man's shoulder, quite spent with fatigue, and al- 
lowed itself to be taken. Probably making its way 
from America to Portugal. To-day, saw a sail, for 
the first time. 

20th. The foul wind still continues. Here we 
are within a hundred miles of Lisbon, and yet with- 
out a hope of getting there, till it shall please the 
wind to change. I remember Lord Bacon says, 
" 'Tis a strange thing, that in sea voyages, where 
there is nothing to be seen but sky and sea, men 
should make diaries.' 3 But it is a strange thing to 
me the Viscount of St. Alban's should not perceive, 
that where there is nothing to be seen, there is little 
done ; and that a man must needs scribble in his 
own defence, — though it be but to register the 
winds, and chronicle the clouds. 

In adjusting the balance between land and water 
carriage, I had till to-day been in some doubt ; but 



8 VOYAGE TO LISBON. [SEPT. 

four- and-t wen ty hours of beating to windward have 
put the question beyond all doubt ; for though you 
may move along without fatigue, it is terribly fa- 
tiguing to stand still; — especially with the wind 
in your teeth. So long, therefore, as the wind 
" bloweth where it listeth," I believe we must 
agree that old Cato's repentance was well founded. 

Sunday, 21st. To-day we have again a breeze 
in our favour. All the crew are busily employed. 
This demand for hands prevents the celebration of 
Church Service, which was read by the Captain last 
Sunday. 

The deck of a ship, out of sight of land, with 
nothing above but the — " brave o'erhanging firma- 
ment," — with its — " majestical roof fretted with 
golden fire," — is better calculated to inspire feelings 
of devotion, than the proudest temple that was ever 
dedicated to the worship of the Supreme Being. 

22d. Once more welcomed the sight of land ! 
Indeed, I believe we did catch a glimpse of Cape 
Finisterre in our passage, but it might have been a 
"camel" or a "whale;" — this morning, however, 
the rock of Lisbon rose with clouded majesty within 
a few miles of us. 

At eleven o'clock we fired a gun, and hoisted a 
signal for a pilot. A number of boats immediately 
put off to us, and the quickest sailer obtained the 
job. 

Our first interview with the natives has not pre- 
possessed us in their favour. From an uncouth 
clumsy boat we have taken in a meagre swarthy 
fellow, with a face as red as Kean's in Othello. 



1817.] LISBON. 9 

He soon gave us a sample of the choleric disposi- 
tion of his nation. The captain seemed to doubt 
his skill, and sending' below for his pistols, he inti- 
mated to the pilot, that if he should get his ship 
a-ground, he would, on that account, shoot him 
through the head. The fellow was transported with 
indignation at this menace ; and, though alone 
amongst strangers, he drew his knife, and threatened 
to revenge himself for the insult. 

We crept along the shore at a snail's pace, and 
did not anchor within the bar of the harbour till ten 
at night. 

23d. Beautiful day. Sailed up the Tagus. The 
view is certainly magnificent; but it has, I think, 
been over-rated by travellers. He who has seen 
London from Greenwich Park, may survey without 
any great astonishment the capital of Portugal. 
The finest feature is the river, compared with which 
the Thames sinks into insignificance. Each side 
has its peculiar beauties, and I doubt whether the 
left bank, with its vineyards and orange groves, does 
not attract the eye as much as the right, on which 
the town stands. 

The entire absence of smoke is a striking novelty 
to an English eye, and at first gives an idea that the 
town must be without inhabitants. 

Being tired of the sea, I resolved to stay at 
Lisbon ; — almost the only place for which I had no 
passport. Some little difficulties occurred in conse- 
quence ; — but these were soon removed ; and after 
a broiling walk in search of lodgings, we subsided 
at last in Reeves's hotel, Rua do Prior, Buenos 



10 LISBON. [SEPT. 

Ayres ; — an excellent house, kept by an Englishman 
— full of cleanliness and comfort; — and these are 
qualities which one appreciates at their just value, 
after a walk through the streets of Lisbon. 

Though travellers may have exaggerated the 
beauties of the view, I have seen no description that 
does justice to the indescribable nastiness of the 
town. I have spoken of the view from the river as 
magnificent, but I believe the true epithet would 
have been imposing ; for it is mere deceit and delu- 
sion : the prestige vanishes at once on landing ; and 
the gay and glittering city proves to be a painted 
sepulchre. Filth and beastliness assault you at 
every turn — in their most loathsome and disgusting 
shapes. In yielding to first impressions, one is 
generally led to exaggerate ; but the abominations 
of Lisbon are incapable of exaggeration. 

24th and 25th. Jaunted about Lisbon by land 
and water carriage. To walk about the streets is 
scarcely possible for an invalid. A clumsy sort of 
carriage on two wheels, driven by a postilion, with a 
pair of mules, is to be hired by the day, or the half 
day; — but not at a cheaper rate than one might 
hire a coach in London. A good idea of these car- 
riages will be formed from the prints in the old 
editions of Gil Bias, since whose time no improve- 
ment seems to have taken place in vehicular archi- 
tecture. 

I have already experienced the truth of Mr. 
Bowdler's remark, — " that in Lisbon, under a 
scorching sun, you are constantly exposed to a cold 
wind." The Portuguese guard against this by a 



1817.] LISBON. 11 

large great coat, worn loose like a mantle, with 
hanging sinecure sleeves, and which they wrap 
round them when, in turning a corner, they en- 
counter the wind. The use of this sweltering sur- 
tout, in some shape or other, is universal, even in 
the hottest weather; — but the remedy is perhaps 
worse than the disease. 

There is something in the appearance of Lisbon 
that seems to portend an earthquake ; and, instead 
of wondering that it was once visited by such a 
calamity, I am rather disposed to consider its daily 
preservation as a standing miracle. Repeated shocks 
have been felt of late years ; and to an earthquake 
it may look, as its natural death. From the vestiges 
which the indolence of the people has allowed to 
remain, one might fancy the last convulsion had 
taken place but a few months. Many ruins are 
now standing just as the earthquake left them. — 
Gorgeous Palaces and solemn Temples now totter 
in crumbling ruins, an awful monument of the 
fatal wreck. There are some streets, built since 
the earthquake, with trottoirs on each side, which 
make a handsome appearance ; and, with any in- 
dustry on the part of the people, the whole town 
might be made one of the most cleanly in Europe ; 
— the undulating nature of the ground being so well 
calculated for carrying away all impurities. 

At present, the only scavengers are the dogs, 
which roam about the streets in hordes, without 
homes or masters, seeking what they may devour. 
And indeed, where all sorts of filth and offal are 
thrown into the street, till they shall be carried by 



12 JOURNEY TO CINTRA. [SEPT. 

the next shower into the Tagus, the dogs are not 
without their use ; and the legislature has not been 
wholly inattentive to their accommodation. There 
is an old law obliging certain trades to keep a vessel 
of water at the doors of their houses for the refresh- 
ment of these freebooters. Canine madness is, I am 
told, almost unknown here ; and it is well that it is 
so. Upon the whole, the dogs behave very well, — 
except to one another ; but it is up-hill work to a 
new settler, for he must fight his way. They are 
strict preservers ;*—if any dog is caught out of the 
limits of his own manor, he is proceeded against as 
a wilful trespasser without any notice. 

26th. Rose at daybreak, and set out in a ca- 
briolet with a stout pair of mules for Cintra. The 
scarcity of gold, and the depreciation of their vile 
paper money, exposed me to the inconvenience of 
carrying about a travelling treasury of silver cru- 
sadoes in a green baize bag, heavy with the weight 
of 150,000 rees. How rich this sounds! — but alas, 
the high-sounding sesterces of the Romans are 
nothing to the paltry pomposity of Portuguese 
arithmetic, — for the ree is little more than the 
fourth of a farthing. 

The road to Cintra carried me near to the great 
aqueduct of Alcantara — 1 the work of Manuel de 
Maya, in 1738 — which stretches across a wide and 
deep valley, by a range of thirty-five arches. The 
centre one of these is said to be the highest arch in 
the world, and the view from the ground, looking 
upwards at it, is beyond measure grand and im- 
posing. The width is 107 French feet, and the 






1817.] JOURNEY TO CINTRA. 13 

height 230. I paced the whole range of the aque- 
duct, upon which there is a fine stone walk of about 
three-quarters of a mile, protected by a parapet. 
This vast work, while it remains a monument of 
the industry of the Portuguese, would lead one to 
believe that they were — as the ancients also are 
supposed to have been — ignorant of the first prin- 
ciples of hydraulics, which have every where else 
superseded the necessity of such stupendous struc- 
tures. Still, in point of architectural grandeur and 
magnificence, it is a just source of national pride; 
and in a country where so few great undertakings, 
unconnected with religion, are brought to perfec- 
tion, it stands like the giant Gulliver amongst the 
pigmies of Lilliput. Apropos of giants; — whole 
armies of windmills are seen here on every side ; — 
and it is well observed by Semple, that Don 
Quixote's mistake, which is too absurd if judged 
by English windmills, is rendered probable by the 
sight of these, which look like good sturdy giants 
of ten feet high. 

Great attention seems every where paid to the 
preservation of water in this country 7 . Fountains 
of marble, of neat and often elegant architecture, 
with large troughs, are constructed on the roadside, 
for the use of the traveller and his beasts. My 
postilion, however, having accomplished one-half of 
his journey, seemed to think that his mules, or him- 
self, or both, for they fared alike, required some- 
thing better than water ; so he stopped at the half- 
way house, with " Vinho do Porto, Carcavelos, 
Colares y fyc. 8fc." inscribed on its front, and there 



14 CINTRA. [SEPT. 

fed himself and his beasts with bread soaked in 
wine. By virtue of this restorative we contrived to 
reach Cintra; having* consumed nearly five hours 
in a stage of not more than sixteen English miles ; 
— though it must be confessed that the road was so 
rough, that greater speed might have been dis- 
agreeable. 

I can add little to the warm tints of description 
that have been so justly lavished upon Cintra, the 
beauties of which are heightened by the contrast of 
the barren and uninteresting country all around it. 
I should compare it with Malvern; — but to the 
heights of Malvern must be added some hundred 
feet of perpendicular rock. The summits are com- 
posed of huge masses of stone, which seem to have 
been thrown up in some great convulsion of nature. 
On one of the peaks are the ruins of an old Moorish 
castle, the bath of which still remains in excellent 
preservation, and shows how attentive to cleanliness 
these Moors were. On the highest point of the 
ridge is the convent of Penha, the existence of 
which, on such a spot, is so wonderful, that I am 
surprised the monks have not attributed it to the 
same kind of assistance which brought our Lady's 
Chapel to Loretto. It commands a most extensive 
prospect ; — but however superior Cintra may be to 
Malvern in itself, the view from it is much less 
pleasing. Instead of the fertile valleys of Worces- 
tershire, the eye has nothing to repose on, but a 
dreary and barren waste. The village of Cintra 
stands half-way up — nestled as it were in the bosom 
of the hill — amidst groves of pine and cork orange 



1817.] 



CINTRA. 



15 



and lemon trees, with a profusion of geraniums and 
evergreens of all kinds. This is the very region of 
romance. The sun is less hot, and the wind less 
cold, than at Lisbon. The mildness of the evening 
is charming, and there is neither damp nor chill to 
prevent your indulging in all the luxuries of a 
moonlight walk. 

27th and 28th. Fell in with Mr. Ward, Charge 
d' Affaires, an old Cambridge acquaintance. Ex- 
cursion to Penha. The convent, high as it is, was 
not out of the reach of French rapacity. They 
robbed the church and the altar of every thing 
worth taking. All they spared was a plated candle- 
stick, and the ornaments of the Virgin : — and here 
I suspect it was not their piety that restrained them 
■ — for the Virgin's habiliments have not the appear- 
ance of being very costly. She wears a flaxen 
powdered wig, and her diamond ornaments savour 
strongly of Birmingham jewellery. 

Upon my return to my hotel, I found two old 
Etonians waiting for me, who, having heard from 
Mr. Ward of the arrival of an old schoolfellow at 
Cintra, were kind enough to come and claim ac- 
quaintance with me. 

Dined, and passed a pleasant evening with one 
of them — Colonel Ross, of the Portuguese service. 
Nearly twenty years had elapsed since he left school, 
but we could just make out that we had been con- 
temporaries. Without acquaintanceship, however, 
there is a sort of freemasonry among Etonians, 
which, I have ever found, disposes them to be 
friendly to one another, whenever they may happen 



16 CINTRA. [SEPT. 

to meet: — and it is, indeed, a pleasant thing to 
meet, wherever you go, with some face that you are 
acquainted with, without the ceremony of introduc- 
tion, from the common relationship of schoolfellow. 

29th, 30th, and 31st. Still at Cintra. My land- 
lady, Mrs. Dacey, an old Irish woman, above eighty 
years old, is now quite blind; but she remembers 
perfectly the great earthquake, and describes the 
horrors of that awful event. Her house is generally 
full of holiday-folks from Lisbon; especially from 
Saturday till Monday. Cintra is to Lisbon what 
Richmond is to London ; and the Lisbon cockneys 
are glad to escape from their counting-houses for a 
few hours of fresh air. The accommodations of 
her house are good, and the table d'h6te excellent. 
The charge for board and lodging is 2,000 rees per 
day — about eleven shillings English. This does 
not include wine, so that Cintra is not cheaper than 
Cheltenham. 

A wolf sometimes makes its appearance here ; — 
and one has lately been very mischievous. 

Walked over the Royal Palace. They show the 
room where Sebastian held his last council, before 
he set out on that fatal expedition, from which he 
has not yet returned : but the Portuguese have not 
abandoned all hopes of seeing him again ; and the 
lower orders expect him with about as much confi- 
dence as the Jews expect their Messiah. Hard by 
is the palace of the Marquis Marialva, famous for 
the Cintra convention. The ink which was spilt on 
this memorable occasion is still visible on the floor 
— scattered, as it is said, by Junot, in an ebullition 



]817.] LISBON. 17 

of spleen, when he put his name to the instrument : 
— but surely he had not the most cause for vexation. 

Returned in the evening to Lisbon. Cattle much 
used here for draught. Met abundance of ox-wains 
— the wheels of a singular construction; — circular 
pieces of board, solid and entire, though very narrow. 
The creaking of these is intolerable, and the noise 
as disagreeable as the sharpening of a saw. 

Thursday, 1st October. Made a bargain with my 
landlord, to board and lodge me for 25 crusadoes a 
week — about 3/. 10s. English. For this I have 
three rooms, and two meals per day, but no wine. 
The cheapest thing in Lisbon is the fruit. Grapes 
are bought at three half-pence a pound, quinces at 
a shilling a hundred, and other things in propor- 
tion; but the flavour of the fruit in general is not 
equal to our own. Because Nature has done so 
much, these lazy rascals seem determined to do 
nothing. Peaches, nectarines, and apricots are left 
to take their chance, without pruning or training. 
Grapes are treated with more care, and melons are 
very abundant. One sees them piled up in heaps 
in the streets, and sold out retail by the slice. 

Walked in the gardens of the Convent dos Neces- 
sidades, of great extent, and some beauty. At least 
they afford shade and retirement, and — what is 
extraordinary in Lisbon — you are admitted for 
nothing. 

Made inquiries in vain for a vessel bound to Italy. 
To contemplate a residence here for the winter 
would be enough to make a healthy man sick ; and 
the desagremens of the place strike with exaggerated 

c 






18 LISBON. [OCT. 

impression on the irritable nerves of an invalid. 
There is not a room in the hotel where I am that 
has a fire-place in it, except the kitchen. A grate 
indeed is a rarity in Lisbon. In winter this incon- 
venience must be severely felt; it is obviated, as 
well as it can be, by a brazier of coal placed in the 
middle of the room. — So much for comfort : — then, 
the disposition of the people towards us offers no 
inducement to stay. There is no doubt of the fact, 
that neither the generosity and good faith of the 
British, nor the blood profusely shed in defence of 
their country, have endeared us to our Portuguese 
allies. They dislike us mortally. How is this to 
be explained ? Is it that malicious sentiment of 
envy, which seems to have overspread the whole 
Continent, at the prodigious elevation to which 
England has arisen : or is it the repulsive, unaccom- 
modating manners which an Englishman is too apt 
to carry with him into all countries, which make 
even a benefit from him less binding than the 
winning urbanity by which the French contrive to 
render confiscation and robbery palatable ? 

The Portuguese are full of discontent ; and their 
long intimacy with us has spread far and wide 
amongst them the lights of information. Indeed, 
it is no wonder that they should be discontented, 
abandoned as they are by their sovereign, who has 
converted the mother-country into a province, from 
which men and money are drawn for the support 
of his transatlantic dominions; whilst the command 
of their national army, and the principal situations 
of power and profit, are in the hands of foreigners. 



1817.] LISBON POLICE. 19 

The greatest unwillingness now prevails anions the 
soldiers to embark for America. I have seen some 
hundred deserters chained together, and marched 
down to the bank of the river. 

2d. Drank tea with Mr. M , and from 

thence went to see the funeral procession of one of 
the Members of the Regency, who was understood 
to be chief of the anti-British party; but he has 
probably left his mantle behind. — Saw nothing. — 
Heard discharges of artillery in abundance, and 
this was all. — Nothing can be more dreary than the 
streets of Lisbon at night. No part of the town is 
regularly lighted. The Virgin and the Saints en- 
gross the few lamps which here and there give a 
gleam of light. Amongst dirt, dogs, and darkness, 
it is easy to imagine how it fares with the stranger 
groping his way through the streets at night. 

The police of Lisbon, as far as it affects the 
suppression of disturbances in the streets, and the 
maintenance of public decency, is extremely good. 
One is struck with the entire absence of all external 
symptoms of the vices and immoralities that might 
be expected to prevail in a metropolis, and sea-port, 
in this southern latitude. These regulations, though 
they may not be sufficient to counteract the vicious 
propensities of human nature, must be of some use ; 
and I think we should do well to imitate them in 
our own metropolis : for — " how oft the sight of 
means to do ill deeds makes ill deeds done !" Thus 
far the police is good ; but for the prevention of 
crimes, or for inquiry into the perpetrators of them, 
it is of little sendee. The lower orders are in the 







20 LISBON SUPERSTITION. [OCT. 

habit of carrying a large clasp knife, with the open 
blade concealed under the right sleeve, and, as it 
may be supposed, assassinations are by no means 
uncommon. 

The Inquisition is still an object of mysterious 
dread. And, truly, the sight of its gloomy prison — 
triplici circumdata muro — is sufficient to suggest the 
idea of that Infernal Tribunal of which Tisiphone 
kept the gate, and Rhadamanthus administered the 
laws : 

stat fervea turris ad auras ; 

Tisiphoneque sedens, palia succiucta cruenta, 
Vestibulum insomnis servat noctesque diesque. 
Hinc exaudiri gemitus, et sseva son are 
Verbera ; — turn stridor ferri, tiactseque caience. 
Gnossius haec Rhadamanthus habet durissima regna, 
Castigatque, auditque dolos, subigitque fateri. 

A young man of considerable fortune disappeared 
about a year ago, and it was supposed for some 
time that he was murdered. A large reward was 
offered for the discovery of his body ; but the river 
was dragged, and every well and hole in the town 
explored without success. It is the opinion of many 
that he is now immured in the prisons of the In- 
quisition. By-the-by, I have not yet mentioned the 
priests; — and for aught I know, they are more 
numerous than the dogs. Doghood and Priesthood 
are certainly the most thriving trades in Lisbon. It 
is an humiliating spectacle to see the abject super- 
stition in which the people are sunk and brutified. 
As the best things, by being corrupted, become the 
worst, so here Christianity exhibits a system of 



1817.] 



LISBON. 



21 



idolatry much more revolting than the old Pagan 
worship. One cannot help feeling some regard for 
the ancient mythology, which is as amusing as 
Mother Bunch, illustrated and adorned too, as it 
was, by such divine statues. Besides — the heathens 
had not the means of knowing better; but who that 
has read the New Testament can tolerate the con- 
temptible mummeries which are here practised under 
the name of religion ? The religion of the heathens 
was as superior to this, as the statues of Phidias 
excel in beauty the tawdry and disgusting images 
to which these poor creatures bow down with such 
humble prostrations. 

In the mean time, however, the priests thrive 
and fatten. I will not say, with Semple, that they 
are the only fat people in Portugal, but I will vouch 
for their universal embonpoint. 

This to be sure is only the outward and visible 
sign ; — but it tends to give credibility to the tales in 
vogue, of the sloth and good cheer, the licentious 
feastings and debaucheries, which take place in the 
convents, or rather the castles of indolence, in which 
these portly monks are lodged. The French, who 
hated a monk and the smell of a monk, as much as 
Walter Shandy, that is — " worse than all the devils 
of hell" — while they bayoneted the dogs without 
mercy, made the monks lay aside the crucifix to 
brandish the besom, and fairly set them to sweep 
the streets; but the French are gone — and the 
monks and the dogs have resumed their usual occu- 
pations. 

The nunneries enjoy a better reputation, and are 



22 LISBON. [OCT. 

said to be filled with sincerely pious women, who 
have been led, from perhaps a mistaken sense of 
religion, to bury themselves in the unprofitable 
seclusion of a convent. This is, however, a delicate 
question, and I leave it in the uncertainty in which 
it has been left by the sage in Rasselas. 

3d, 4th, and 5th. Passed over to the left bank 
of the river, which, in the broadest part, is about 
four miles across. The view from the opposite side 
is very beautiful ; and from the absence of smoke, 
the whole of the town in all its details is distinctly 
visible. The indolence of the people is most strik- 
ing; — you can scarcely get a shopkeeper to give 
himself the trouble to serve you. It pervades all 
classes : — arts, science, literature — every thing lan- 
guishes at Lisbon. 

The Portuguese are worthy of better things ; but 
they are bowed down by a despotic government, 
and hood- winked by a besotted superstition. The 
priests seem to fear that the growing spirit of in- 
quiry will destroy the foundations of their power ; 
and therefore they do ail they can to keep the people 
in a state of ignorance, in which they are supported 
by the Inquisition, which prohibits the circulation 
of all writings tending to excite religious investi- 
gation. 

The government, on the other hand, takes equal 
care that no political disquisitions shall be intro- 
duced to disturb the quiet slavery to which the 
people seem at present constrained to submit. The 
suppression of the late conspiracy will contribute 
to strengthen the hands of government ; and the 



1817.] 



LISBON. 



23 



indolence of the people may help to continue the 
present state of things some time longer ; — but a 
change must take place sooner or later. 

6th. Every thing warns me to depart. I have 
to-day been attending as pall-bearer at the funeral 
of one of my fellow passengers from England. He 
was in the last stage of a decline, and might as 
well have been suffered to lay his bones in his own 
country. The funeral of a young countryman in a 
foreign land must always be an affecting ceremony ; 
and my own situation perhaps — for philosophers 
assure us that self is the foundation of sympathy — 
made it still more impressive. It may be my turn 
next : — mea res agitur, paries cumproximus ardet. — 
He lodged next door. 

The English burying-ground is pleasantly situ- 
ated, and well shaded with fine cypresses. I looked 
in vain for the grave of Fielding. They do indeed 
pretend to point out the spot ; but to the reproach 
of the English factory be it said, there is no stone 
to indicate where his remains lie. 

It does really concern the honour of the nation 
that some monument should be erected to his me- 
mory; and it is a pity that Mr. Canning, during 
his embassy to Lisbon, was not solicited to prepare 
a suitable inscription ; whose truly classical pen 
would have done full justice to the subject. 

After the ceremony, went to the church of St. 
Roque, which contains some fine specimens of mo- 
saic. The altar is surrounded by a railing of verd 
antique, and displays a profusion of porphyry, lapis 
lazuli, amethyst, &c. &c. 



24 LISBON. [OCT. 

The friars would have you believe they contrived 
to persuade the French that the immense candle- 
sticks, which are really silver gilt, were made of 
brass. 

7th to 12th. Still in Lisbon; — though daily be- 
coming more impatient to leave it. Amongst the 
minor plagues of the place, I ought to mention the 
flies. The rooms are full of them. They attack 
you in countless myriads, and their annoyance is 
intolerable. With what different feelings would 
one read the story of Domitian, in England and 
Lisbon ! — There I sympathized with the flies ; — 
here with Domitian ; — whose hostility seems very 
justifiable, and whose expertness is the daily subject 
of my emulation. 

13th. Visited the botanical gardens, where there 
is a museum, containing a good collection of curi- 
osities in all the departments of nature. At the 
entrance of the garden, are placed two military 
statues, of rude and uncouth workmanship. These 
were dug up some years ago at Montalegre, and are 
supposed to belong to a period anterior to the Car- 
thaginian conquest of Spain. They afford a curious 
and interesting specimen of the first essays of a bar- 
barous people in the art of sculpture, to perpetuate 
the memory of their chiefs. 

Went to mass, where I liked nothing but the 
music. There certainly seems to be one convenience 
in the Catholic worship : — for those who attend 
might, with Friar John in Rabelais, compare their 
prayers to stirrup leathers — which are made short 
or long at pleasure. 



1817.] DEPARTURE FROM LISBON. 25 

Took leave of my brother, whose kindness has 
been unremitting 1 , and who this evening* went on 
board the packet upon his return to England. 

14th. Found a ship bound to Leghorn, — the 
Fanny, — a small trading vessel, of about 140 tons 
burthen. The captain asked me twenty guineas for 
my passage, and would fain have persuaded me that 
his demand was just. I knew it to be too much by 
half, and when he saw me resolved not to give more 
than ten, he acceded to my terms with scarcely a 
decent demur. 

I am to find my own sea-stock and bedding. 

15th and 16th. Busily employed in preparations 
for my voyage. Mr. Ward kindly sent me his boat 
to make use of in conveying my various stores on 
board. 

Took a farewell stroll through Lisbon. — Of the 
Portuguese women I have said nothing, though 1 
have seen some fine specimens of face and figure. 
It is in expression of countenance and gracefulness 
of carriage that their charm consists, for to com- 
plexional beauty they have no claims. The hair 
is profusely ornamented with gold combs, artificial 
flowers, or precious stones of various colours. The 
women in walking the streets never wear a hat or 
bonnet, but cover the head with a white handker- 
chief. And, let the weather be ever so hot, an im- 
mense cloak, or rather great coat — often of red cloth 
— is thrown over their shoulders. 

As I was returning from my stroll, I sat down 
to rest on the steps of a statue ; but was hurried 
away by observing a man ridding himself of a nu- 



26 DEPARTURE FROM LISBON. [OCT. 

merous retinue of vermin on the other side of the 
pedestal — and cracking them by dozens on the 
steps. 

And so much for the Lusitanian, or — as it might 
with more propriety be called — the Lousitanian 
Metropolis. I shall quit it without one feeling of 
regret. In fact, to remain in it is impossible : — I 
am fairly stunk out. 



1817.] 27 



CHAPTER II. 

Voyage to Leghorn — Quarantine — Pisa — Florence — The Gal- 
lery — Venus de Medicis — Canova's Venus — Countess of 
Albany — Pitti Collection of Paintings — Raphael — Vandyke 
— Salvator Rosa — Gabinetto Fisico — Santa Croce. 

Friday, 17th. My fat landlord, Mr. Reeves, whom 
I strongly recommend to all visitors to Lisbon, en- 
tered my room before day-break, to announce that 
the Fanny was making preparations for weighing 
anchor. Went on board as the sun rose. We 
weighed anchor immediately ; and with a fine breeze 
from the northward, and the tide in our favour, 
glided rapidly down the Tagus. 

18th and 19 th. Sick as a dog ! 

20th. Mounted the deck with a firm step. — 
Passed over the scene of the battle of Trafalgar. — 
To-morrow is the anniversary of the death of Nelson. 
— Sung Rule Britannia, with enthusiasm ; as the 
most appropriate requiem to the memory of the im- 
mortal Admiral. 

About dinner-time we arrived at the mouth of the 
Strait, or, as the sailors call it, the Gut of Gibraltar. 
—The view strikingly grand. The African side 
much more bold and lofty than the European. — 
Attempted to sketch the rock of Gibraltar, which is 
less remarkable for its height, than for its singularly 
detached situation, which has all the appearance of 
an island in rouffh weather. 



23 VOYAGE TO LEGHORN. [OCT. 

We passed up the Strait with a fresh breeze; and 
I do not remember to have ever seen a more mag- 
nificent prospect. As we sailed onwards, the view 
was enlivened by constant variety; — the rock of 
Gibraltar changing its appearance as we shifted our 
ground, and caught it in different points of view. 

21st. To-day at noon saw Cape de Gata. Flew 
onwards on the pinions of the finest breeze imagin- 
able. I find I have committed a great mistake in 
the laying in of my sea-stock. Wishing to try the 
effect of an abstemious diet, I resolved to compel an 
adherence to it, and therefore contented myself with 
a goat to furnish me with milk, confining the re- 
mainder of my stores to biscuit, rice, potatoes, cocoa, 
and arrow root. I mention this to warn any invalid 
who may chance to read my Journal from following 
my example. For milk will be found of little use, 
unless a man have the stomach of a sailor ; and the 
want of something in the shape of broth or soup will 
be severely felt. Though my poor Nanny is a most 
entertaining companion on deck, she is of no further 
use. Her society, however, is worth a good deal. 
She is an old sailor, and so accustomed to the sea, 
that the voyage has not at all diminished her supply 
of milk. 

My only other fellow passenger is a Genoese — 
the supercargo of the vessel ; — between whom and 
the Captain I am obliged to act as interpreter. 

22d. Out of sight of land. The last point we 
saw was Cape Palos. The southern coast of Spain 
presents an inaccessible barrier of mountains covered 
with snow. 



1S17.J VOYAGE TO LEGHORN. 29 

Our voyage had hitherto been most prosperous ; 
— but soon after I retired to bed, a sudden squall 
came on, and the wind shifted round to the east- 
ward. The squall was accompanied with thunder, 
lightning", rain, and the usual symptoms of a storm. 
Whilst all was confusion on the deck, the cabin- 
window immediately behind my berth was driven 
in, and we shipped a sea, that fairly washed me 
out of bed. The supercargo joined me in roaring 
out lustily for help ; — for, to say the truth, I believe 
we both thought that we were going to the bottom. 
The fact was, that, in consequence of the very 
favourable weather, we had neglected to put up the 
dead lights ; and the squall came on so suddenly, 
that before the sails could be taken in, the ship was 
driven backwards against the heavy sea, which had 
been rolling us along since we entered the Mediter- 
ranean. 

It was some time before any one could be spared 
from the deck to attend to the state of affairs below ; 
and if, in the mean time, we had shipped another 
sea, the conseouence would have been more serious. 

As it was, my situation was sufficiently deplor- 
able ; and my only choice was between salt-water 
in the cabin, or rain-water on deck. — Passed the 
remainder of the night like a half-drowned rat. — 
The squall soon subsided; and the wind returned 
to its old quarter in our favour. 

23rd. Breeze still steady. Fine weather, but 
cold. The sea of a line dark indigo. Quantities of 
fish sporting about the vessel. A strange sail to 
the southward of a suspicious appearance, which 
seemed to savour of Algiers. 



30 VOYAGE TO LEGHORN. [OCT. 

24th. I begin to suspect that all I shall gain by 
my voyage will be the conviction that a man who 
travels so far from home, in pursuit of health, travels 
on a fool's errand. The crosses he must meet on 
his road will do him more injury, than he can hope 
to compensate by any change of climate. I am told 
that a sea-voyage, to be of any benefit to an invalid, 
should be made in a frigate, or other vessel of 
equal size ; but of this I doubt ; — for all comfort is 
so entirely out of the question at sea, that I think 
the difference of as little importance as the choice 
of a silken or hempen rope would be to a man at 
the gallows. I am sure, however, that the fatigue 
and discomfort of such a little cock-boat as this, is 
much the same thing as if one were to be tossed in 
a blanket during one-half of the day, and thrown 
into a pigsty for the remainder. 

I nunc, et ventis animam committe dolato 
Confisus ligno, digitis a morte remotus 
Quatuor, aut septem — si sit latissima teda. 

26th. Saw land again at a distance on the west- 
ern coast of Corsica. 

27th. The wind, which had hitherto been blow- 
ing steadily in our favour, now slackened. At noon 
we were becalmed, with a very heavy swell. A storm 
came suddenly on. While we were standing on the 
deck, the ship received a violent blow on the stern, 
which threw the captain, the supercargo, and my- 
self, on our faces. It is such an accident as this, 
according to the captain, that, in rough weather, 
sometimes sends a ship in a moment to the bottom. 
The boat was knocked away, and we heard another 



1817.] VOYAGE TO LEGHORN. 31 

crash in the cabin. It was a repetition of the affair 
of Wednesday, with this difference, that on this 
occasion it was on the supercargo's side. As I 
saw his bed brought up to be dried, I never felt so 
strongly Rochefoucault's meaning, in his memor- 
able maxim about our neighbours' misfortunes. This 
storm ended as the last, and the wind returned to its 
old quarter in our rear with greater violence than 
before ; and we made all sail for Leghorn. 

Tuesday, 28th. Italiam ! Italiam ! At eight 
o'clock this morning we were within eighteen miles 
of Leghorn — near the little island of Gorgona, with 
Elba on our right, and the smiling land of Italy 
spread out before us. Achates himself could not 
have been more rejoiced than I was at this sight ; — 
and it is not the " humilem Italiam" which iEneas 
describes, but the high ground behind Leghorn, 
with the bold outline of the Apennines in the back- 
ground. 

If the wind had continued three hours longer, we 
should have breakfasted at Leghorn. But, within 
sight of port, the wind has chopped about, and, for 
the first time since we left Lisbon, we have begun 
to tack. The view is, however, full of interest, and 
I have no right to complain of the wind, consider- 
ing what a galloping voyage we have made. 

29th. After tacking against a foul wind through- 
out the whole of last night, we entered the road of 
Leghorn at nine o'clock this morning, having com- 
pleted the passage from Lisbon in twelve days. 

A boat from the Health-office hailed us imme- 
diately, and we were ordered to perform a quaran- 
tine of ten davs. 



32 LEGHORN ROADS QUARANTINE. [OCT. 

Thus it seems that, before we enjoy the delights 
of an Italian Paradise, we are to be subjected to a 
purgatory of purification ; such as Virgil describes : 

Aliae pandimtur inanes 
Suspense ad ventos : 
Donee longa dies, perfecto teraporis orbe, 
Concretam exemit labem, pummque reliquit. 

Our passage has been so short, that these ten 
days might well be added to the account, without 
exciting much impatience — but it is always difficult 
to submit quietly to unnecessary restraint. 

30th. Weighed anchor, and were permitted to 
go within the mole into the harbour. The last ten 
days of all quarantines are performed here ; and as 
we had a clean bill of health, and there was, in fact, 
no real ground for putting us under quarantine at 
all, we proceeded at once to this destination. Two 
officers of the Health-office were put on board to 
prevent all intercourse with us. As soon as we 
were safely moored within the harbour, a boat full 
of musicians made its appearance under the cabin- 
window, and we were serenaded with " Rule Britan- 
nia," and " God save the King." It is the custom 
to celebrate in this manner the arrival of every new 
comer, and to welcome him with the national airs 
of the country to which he belongs. A few hours 
afterwards, an American came to an anchor very 
near us, and we had then to listen to Yankee Doodle's 
March, with some other airs not at all tuneable to 
an English ear. This serenading is probably the 
remains of an old custom, when a voyage was con- 
sidered an adventure of great danger, and the return 



1817.] QUARANTINE. 33 

of a ship an event worthy of extraordinary celebra- 
tion. 

Boats are constantly plying with supplies of all 
sorts of provisions from the shore ; — and it is per- 
haps worth while to fast for ten days, in order to 
enjoy in perfection the true relish of beef. 

Saturday, 1st Nov. to 7th. The days of quaran- 
tine pass heavily along. The value of liberty can 
be known by those who have been in confine- 
ment : — for 

gt It so falls out 
That what we have we prize not to the worth, 
While we enjoy it : but when 'tis iack'd and lost, 
Why, then we rack the value; then we find 
The virtue, that possession would not shew us 
Whiles it was ours." — 

The quarantine laws, like most others, though 
originally intended for the general good, come at 
last to be perverted to private purposes. This is 
the history of all human institutions. Our quaran- 
tine has been manifestly a mere matter of form. 
Whenever there is any apprehension of infection, 
the suspected ship is obliged to remain in the open 
reads. But here we are with a multitude of vessels 
cf all nations packed together, higgledy-piggledy, as 
close as sheep in a pen ; — a rare precaution against 
infection. The true cause of these strict regula- 
tions, I believe, is the emolument derived from them 
by the Health-Office. A number of men are thus 
kept in employment at the expense of those whom 
they are appointed to guard; — for our Captain is 
obliged to pay his gaolers. In the mean time, we 

D 



34 LEGHORN PISA. [NOV. 

poor travellers suffer. These officers prevent all 
communication between the natives and us, and 
between the inhabitants of one ship and another, 
though we absolutely touch our next-door neigh- 
bour. 

As a proof of the rigorous observance of these 
regulations, — a fowl from our ship flew into the 
rigging of that alongside us ; and it was determined 
— after a grave debate — that the fowl must remain 
where it was, till the quarantine of our neighbour 
had expired. 

Our captain, who was tolerable as long as we 
were at sea, now, in a state of idleness, proves a 
most unmanageable brute. 

Letters from my old friend C, who promised to 
meet me at Pisa. 

Saturday, 8th. At last came the day of our deli- 
verance. Johnson says, that no man ever does any- 
thing for the last time, without some feeling of 
regret. The last day of quarantine might form an 
exception to this observation. Early this morning 
the boat of the Health-Office came alongside : — the 
crew were mustered on the deck ; — and the examina- 
tion was begun and concluded in a moment. Thus 
ended the farce of quarantine. I lost no time in 
getting myself and my baggage on shore ; and after 
a short ramble through the streets of Leghorn, hired 
a cabriolet to carry me to Pisa. 

Perhaps the most interesting sight in Leghorn is 
the English burying-ground. Smollett was buried 
here, affording in his death, as in his writings, a 
parallel to Fielding ; — both being destined to find 
their last home in a foreign land. 



1817.] CATHEDRAL LEANING TOWER. 35 

Excellent road from Leghorn to Pisa, through 
the fertile plain of the Arno. At the gate of Pisa, 
I first encountered the restraints of continental 
travelling, in the examination of my passport and 
baggage. 

Found my friend C. at the " Tre Donzelle. 35 
Passed a long evening in chatting over the tales of 
former times. — Disgusted at the mode of salute in 
use amongst Italians. They kiss each other in the 
street — first, on one cheek, then on the other, and 
lastly, lip to lip. 

Pisa has a gloomy and deserted appearance, as if 
it had once seen better days. The inn — cold and 
comfortless — with brick floors, and without carpets. 

The cathedral — a venerable pile of party-coloured 
marble. The first impression of this style of build- 
ing is unfavourable ; but this may be the mere 
effect of novelty. One seldom likes what one is not 
accustomed to. 

The leaning tower at first sight is quite terrific, 
and exceeds expectation. There is, I believe, no 
doubt of the real history of this tower. The founda- 
tion-ground gave way during the progress of the 
building, and the architect completed his work in 
the direction thus accidentally given to it. Accord- 
ingly, we find in the construction of the upper part, 
that the weight is disposed in a way to support the 
equilibrium. 

Upon the whole, it is a very elegant structure ; 
and the general effect is so pleasing, that — like 
Alexander's wry neck — it might well bring leaning 
into fashion amongst all the towers in Christendom. 

d 2 



36 LEAVE PISA FOR FLORENCE. [NOV. 

9th. Finding I could not establish myself imme- 
diately en pension^ I resolved to accept C.'s offer of 
a seat in his carriage to Florence. 

Whenever the Grand Duke of Tuscany moves 
about his dominions, all the post-horses on his route 
are put under taboo for his exclusive use. 

Unluckily for us, he was to-day on his road from 
Pisa to Florence. It was necessary, therefore, to 
hire a Vetturino y who undertakes to transport your 
carriage, in a certain time, for a certain sum. 

Left Pisa at noon. Soon after our departure the 
rain came down in torrents. The horses knocked 
up ; and the vetturino was half-drowned. The post- 
master refused to let us have horses ; — and as he 
had no beds to offer us — there was every prospect of 
our passing the night in the carriage. $., who was 
with us, smoked his pipe :— I swore in English ; — 
and C. out-swore, out-argued, and out-joked the 
post-master and all his crew in their native tongue. 
At last, by dint of his arguments and humour, for 
which the Italians have a keen relish, the difficulties 
were got over ; though we did not reach Florence 
till after midnight. 

10th to 20th. Travellers generally exaggerate most 
outrageously ; — but they have hardly done justice 
to Florence. It may well* be called — Fair Florence. 
— The Arno runs through it with a turbid, but 
rapid, and therefore cheerful, stream, forming as it 
were the middle of the principal street. Between 
the lines of houses and the river is a broad quay, 
serving for carriages and foot-passengers. Four 
bridges at short distances connect the two sides of 



1817.] FLORENCE SCHNEIDERF'S HOTEL. 37 

the street, and add to its beauty. The absence of 
smoke, and the clearness of the atmosphere, enable 
you to see the surrounding country distinctly, from 
all parts of the town. 

The views up and down the river are beautiful ; 
and the immediate environs are ornamented with 
undulating shrubberies and villas without number. 

The prospect from these environs is rich beyond 
description. Florence is laid out at your feet — and 
the Arno winds through a golden and fertile plain, 
till the scene is closed by the bold and rugged range 
of the Apennines — 

gaudetque nivali 
Vertice se attollens Pater Apenninus ad auras. 

Such is the first view of Florence ; — and within 
its walls is all that can conduce to gratify the 
senses, or delight the imagination. The wonders of 
ancient and modern art are all around you, and 
furnish an inexhaustible field of occupation and 
amusement. 

Schneiderf's hotel is a magnificent establishment; 
and though Florence may be better calculated for 
a summer residence, yet it is well provided with 
winter comforts; — and the comforts of a place are 
as important to an invalid as the climate. 

The daily charge at Schneiderf's, if you have only 
one room — which in Italy may serve for all purposes 
— is seven pauls for lodging, ten pauls for dinner, 
and four pauls for breakfast — altogether about ten 
shillings English. For this, you have a good room, 
an excellent dinner of two courses, with a dessert, 
and as much of the wine of the country as you like. 



38 schneiderf's hotel — GALLERY. [nov. 

— If a man wishes to drink genuine liquor — let him 
always drink the common wine of the country in 
which he happens to be. Mould candles are also 
thrown into the bargain ; — if you burn wax you pay 
for them, and an extra charge is made for fire. The 
dinner alone in England would cost more than the 
whole daily expenditure. 

The English abound so much in Florence, that a 
traveller has little occasion for any other language. 
At all the hotels, there is some one connected with 
the house that can speak English. English shops 
abound with all sorts of knickknacks — from Reading 
sauce to Woodstock gloves ; — and the last new novels 
stare you in the face at the libraries. 

The first thing every man goes to see in Florence 
is — the Gallery. It is thrown open to the public 
every day except Sundays and holy days, which last, 
by-the-by, occur too often in Italy, to the great 
interruption of business, The attendants are always 
civil and obliging, and without any interested motive, 
for notices are affixed to the doors to request that 
nothing may be given to them. Upon the same 
principle that a child picks out the plums, before he 
eats the rest of his pudding, I hurried at once to 
the Sanctum Sanctorum of this Temple of Taste — 
the Tribune ; — a small octagon room, the walls of 
which are decorated with a select few of the best 
paintings of the best masters, and in the area of the 
apartment are five of the most admired pieces of 
ancient sculpture. 

First and foremost amongst these is — " the statue 
that enchants the world" — the unimitated, inimit- 



1817.] FLORENCE VENUS DE MEDICIS. 39 

able Venus. She has now resumed her old station 
after her second visit to Paris ; — for I am surprised 
the French did not argue that her adventure with 
the shepherd on Mount Ida was clearly typical of 
her late trip to their metropolis. 

One is generally disappointed after great expecta- 
tions have been raised, but in this instance I was 
delighted at first sight, and each succeeding visit 
has charmed me more. It is indeed a wonderful 
work in conception and execution — but I doubt 
whether Venus be not a misnomer. Who can recog- 
nize in this divine statue any traits of the queen of 
love and pleasure ? It seems rather intended as a 
personification of all that is elegant, graceful, and 
beautiful ; not only abstracted from all human in- 
firmities, but elevated above all human feelings and 
affections; — for, though the form is female, the 
beauty is like the beauty of angels, who are of no 
sex. I was at first reminded of Milton's Eve ; but 
in Eve — even in her days of innocence before " she 
damned us all" — there was some tincture of hu- 
manity, of which there is none in the Venus ; in 
whose eye* there is no heaven, and in whose gesture 
there is no love. 

Immediately behind the statue is the most famous 
of all the famous Venuses of Titian, who has repre- 
sented the Goddess of Pleasure in her true character 
— the Houri of a Mahometan paradise; — and a 

* This passage has been censured as inconsistent and con- 
tradictory. If there be any inconsistency, it is in speaking of 
the eye of the Venus at all; as, in point of fact, the eye of the 
statue is nothing but a cold and colourless blank. 



40 VENUS DE MEDICIS. [NOV. 

most bewitching picture it is. But the triumph of 
the statue is complete ; — there is an all-powerful 
fascination about it that rivets the attention, and 
makes the spectator turn away from the picture — 
like Hercules from the voluptuous blandishments of 
the Goddess of Pleasure — to devote an exclusive 
adoration to the celestial purity of her rival ; — for 
celestial she certainly is. 

The peculiar attribute of her divinity is, not its 
ubiquity, but its individuality. — It seems impossible 
to transfer any portion of her " glorious beauty" to 
a copy. — None of the casts give any idea of the 
nameless grace of the original. — This incommuni- 
cable essence is always the criterion of transcendent 
excellence. 

The arms are modern, and very inferior to the 
rest of the work. There is something finical and 
affected in the turn of the fingers, wholly at vari- 
ance with the exquisite simplicity of the rest of the 
figure. 

I must record — though I would willingly forget 
— the only traces of humanity in the Venus ; which 
escaped my notice in the first fervour of admiration. 
Her ears are bored for ear-rings, which probably 
once hung there ; and her arm bears the mark of 
having been compressed by a bracelet. This last 
ornament might perhaps be excused, but for the 
other barbarous trinkets — what can be said? I 
would wish to think they were not the work of the 
original sculptor; but that they might have been 
added by some later proprietor, in the same taste 
that the Squire in Smollett bestows full-curled peri- 



1817.] FLORENCE STATUES. 41 

wigs, by the hand of an itinerant limner, at so much 
per head, on the portraits of his ancestors painted 
by Vandyke. 

Having said so much of the Venus, the others 
may he soon despatched. 

The Apollino is a model of symmetry. The 
Wrestlers are admirable : but I should like them 
better if there were more contrast between the 
figures ; — for they are so alike, that they might be 
supposed to be twins. The arm of the vanquished 
is out of joint, from the violence of his overthrow. 

The Knife Grinder, as it is called, may be any- 
body. None of the suggestions that have yet been 
made are completely satisfactory. 

The Faun is principally remarkable, as exhibiting 
the best instance of Michael Angelo's skill in resto- 
ration. He has added a new head, and I doubt if 
the original could have excelled the substitute. 
Besides these, which are in the Tribune, — there is 
the Hermaphrodite ; — the attitude of which is an 
exquisite specimen of the skill of the ancients in 
imitating the ease and simplicity of nature. The 
disposition of the reclining figure is so delightfully 
natural, that you feel afraid to approach it, lest you 
should disturb its sleep. This felicity in catching 
the postures of nature is still more happily illustrated 
in The Sleep herd extracting a thorn from his foot. 
The marble is actually alive. Venus rising from 
the sea, which is in one of the corridors, deserves a 
place in the Tribune. 

The head of Alexander is worthy of the son of 
Ammon, and the conqueror of the world. The 



42 FLORENCE STATUES. [NOV. 

figures in the group of the Niobe are of very unequal 
merit. Perhaps the taste of the whole is rather too 
theatrical. — Niobe herself, and two of her children, 
are very superior to the rest. — The agony of maternal 
affection is beautifully expressed in the figure of 
Niobe. Did Ovid borrow his affecting description 
from the statue, or did the sculptor take his idea 
from Ovid ? 

Ultima restabat, quam toto corpore Mater, 
Tota veste tegens, unam, minimamqne relinque; 
De multis minimam posco, clamavit, et unam ! 

However this be, the statue and the verses form an 
excellent commentary upon each other : 

ft The verse and sculpture bore an equal part, 
And art reflected images to art.'* 

Amongst the modern statues there are but few to 
admire. Michael Angelo's Bacchus will have no 
incense from me ; — and his unfinished Brutus has 
all the air of a blacksmith. By the way, this is not 
intended, as it has been often supposed, for Marcus 
Brutus. It is a portrait of one of the Medici, who 
assassinated his uncle, and was called the Florentine 
Brutus ; but proving afterwards the oppressor, and 
not the liberator, of his country, M. Angelo laid 
aside his unfinished bust in disgust. The head of 
a Satyr — his first essay in sculpture as a boy of 
fourteen — is a truly wonderful performance ; but 
there is nothing of M. Angelo's in the Gallery that 
will compare with the Rape of the Sabines, or the 
bronze Mercury of John of Bologna. The Mercury 
is standing on one leg, upborne by the breath of a 



1S17.J FLORENCE PAINTINGS. 43 

Zephyr. It is a figure of ethereal lightness, and 
might " bestride the gossamer, that idles in the 
wanton summer air." 

So much for the sculpture of the Gallery ; — and 
it is equally rich in paintings. In addition to the 
two Venuses of Titian, which exhibit in the highest 
perfection all the glowing beauties of that painter, 
there are also in the Tribune some of the choicest 
works of Raphael. St. John in the Wilderness, and 
the portrait of Fornarina, are in his last and best 
manner, without any trace of that hard dry style 
derived from his master Perugino, from which he so 
happily lived to emancipate himself. I must also 
mention a portrait of Cardinal Aguechia by Dome- 
nichino, which is worthy of being compared with 
the noble picture of Charles Vth. on horseback, by 
Vandyke, that hangs opposite to it; — and this is 
praise enough. There are some fine bold sketches 
of Salvator Rosa, in the ante-rooms of the Tribune, 
which will well repay the trouble of hunting them 
out ; — and the famous head of Medusa, by Leonardo 
da Vinci, must not be overlooked. 

These are the plums of the Gallery; — I leave it 
to guides and catalogues to discuss the rest of the 
pudding. 

Sunday 16th. This evening, Sunday, I was pre- 
sented to the Grand Duke. The Pitti Palace was 
thrown open to receive the congratulations of the 
public on the marriage of the Grand Duke's eldest 
son to a Princess of Saxony. — The bride, an elegant, 
interesting girl of seventeen, paid her compliments 
to the company with affability and grace ; — the 



44 PITTI PALACE CANOVA'S VENUS. [NOV. 

Grand Duke and his family played at cards ; — and 
every thing went off very well ; — but for my part, I 
could not help thinking we were all de trop — as the 
marriage had only taken place in the morning. 

The palace, spacious and splendid. The state- 
rooms were thrown open, and we roamed about 
without restraint, and were regaled with all kinds 
of refreshments. The boudoir, in the centre of 
which stands Canova's Venus, brilliantly illumi- 
nated, and lined with mirrors, reflected the beauties 
of her figure in all directions, and exhibited the 
statue to the highest advantage. This is the statue 
which occupied the pedestal of the Medicean Venus, 
during her flight to Paris : — but I can find nothing 
divine about Canova's Venus. She is not worthy 
to officiate as chambermaid to the Goddess of the 
Tribune. It is simply the representation of a 
modest ivoman, who seems to shrink from exposure 
in such a dishabille; while her Grecian prototype, 
in native innocence and simplicity — scarcely con- 
scious of nakedness — seems to belong to an order 
of beings to whom the sentiment of shame was as 
yet unknown. 

The attitude of Canova's is constrained, and per- 
haps even awkward. This may arise from the 
manner in which she compresses that scanty drapery 
which the sculptor has given her — intended, I 
suppose — " to double every charm it seeks to hide." 
The symmetry too is by no means perfect. The 
head is manifestly too large. It is perhaps unfair 
to attribute to the sculptor the faults of the marble, 
but it is impossible not to remark that even if the 



1817.] ITALIAN MASQUERADES. 45 

work had been more perfect than it is, the unfortu- 
nate flaws, just in those places where they are most 
mal-a-propos, must still have detracted much from 
its beauty. Many of the copies of this statue seem 
to me quite equal, if not superior to the original ; 
an infallible proof, if the remark be correct, of its 
mediocrity of merit. 

The Princess wished us good night at ten o'clock; 
— and we were all bowed out. 

Monday, 17th. A long morning amongst the 
pictures in the Pitti Palace. A magnificent collec- 
tion. Their value may be estimated by the fact of 
the French, who certainly had the knack of finding 
out what was worth stealing, taking no less than 
sixty-three to the Louvre. These are now returned. 

Tuesday, 18th. This evening the city of Florence 
gave a masked ball at the rooms of the Belle Arti, 
to which the Grand Duke and all the Court were 
invited. The Italians have been celebrated for their 
masquerading talents ; — but if this ball were taken 
as a sample, a masquerade is a duller thing in Italy 
than in England. I believe it is never entertaining 
but in a novel — and there very seldom. 

The young bride, in a room set apart for the 
purpose, opened a select ball ; and I was pleased 
that she chose our old-fashioned, well-behaved 
country dance. 

19th. Another morning in the Pitti; — but more 
of the pictures hereafter. — Strolled carelessly 
through the rooms, without any guide of any kind, 
trusting to first impressions. When one has thus, 
by two or three visits, become familiarized with 



46 FLORENCE LAURENTIAN LIBRARY. [NOV. 

what one likes, and what one does not, it is useful 
to get a catalogue, and compare one's sensations 
with authority. Protect me from the tiresome flip- 
pancy of a professed Cicerone — who takes you round 
a gallery of pictures, like the shownan of a collec- 
tion of wild beasts. 

Thursday, 20th. In the evening, a masqued ball 
at the Cascine Rooms, to which the Court and the 
English were invited ; but as I have already had a 
peep at these gew-gaws, which I consider only as 
Lions to be seen with the other raree-shows of a 
foreign country, I prefer the " society of solitude " 
in my own arm-chair. 

21st. This evening brought the news of the 
Princess Charlotte's death, creating a sensation 
which has seldom been produced by any public 
disaster. It seemed to be felt by all the English 
as a domestic calamity. The Charge oV Affaires 
wrote to the Grand Duke, on the part of the Eng- 
lish, to excuse their attendance at a ball and supper, 
which had been fixed for the ensuing Sunday at the 
Pitti Palace. 

The Duke, we are told, was much pleased with 
the feeling that gave rise to this note, and exclaimed, 
" Voila de P esprit vraiment national I — cela leur 
fait beaucoujp d'honneur." All the English put on 
deep mourning. Poor Charlotte ! and Poor Leo- 
pold ! and poor England ! — but all public feelings 
are absorbed in lamenting her fate as a woman, a 
wife, and a mother. 

22d. To the Laurentian library, which is one of I 
the raree-shows of Florence; — but a library is not j 



1817.] FLORENCE COUNTESS OF ALBANY. 47 

a thing' to be stared at. Here they show you the 
famous copy of the Pandects — for which you will 
not be a wit the wiser ; and one of the oldest manu- 
scripts extant of Virgil, written in a very beautiful 
character, in which I neither found the Culex, nor 
the four lines " I He ego qui quondam" usually pre- 
fixed to the iEneid. There is a Petrarch, too, orna- 
mented with portraits of the poet, and his Laura, 
taken, as it is said, from the life. — I looked with 
more interest at the finger of Galileo, which is here 
preserved under a glass case — pointing with a tri- 
umphant expression to those heavens which he was 
condemned to a dungeon for having explored. 

Adjoining is the church of St. Lorenzo ; and the 
mausoleum of the Medici — a splendid piece of 
nonsense which has never been completed. The 
church is full of the works of Michael Angel o ; — 
but it is no easy matter to comprehend allegorical 
statues. 

Countess of Albany's party in the evening. She 
still maintains the form and ceremony of Queen- 
Dowager, wearing the arms of England on her car- 
riage, and receiving a circle every Saturday evening, 
with a strictness of etiquette exceeding that of the 
Grand Duke's court. She was almost the only per- 
son out of mourning. This was, to say the least of 
it, bad taste. If there is no alliance of blood, there 
is a pecuniary relationship between her and the 
English government — from which she receives an 
annual pension of fifteen hundred pounds — that 
might well have afforded a black gown. It would 
be difficult to trace in her present appearance any 



48 REFLECTIONS ON PAINTING. [NOV. 

remains of those charms that could attract and 
attach the fiery and fastidious Alfieri. 

Sunday, 23d. To mass in the cathedral. Of the 
churches of Florence I say little. The subject is 
endless — if indeed Eustace have not exhausted it. 
It is impossible not to admire the magnificence of 
their internal decorations; — but it is a magnificence 
that fatigues, and perhaps disgusts a Protestant, un- 
accustomed to the pomp and pageantry of Catholic 
worship. External modes however are, after all, 
mere matters of taste, about which there is no dis- 
puting ; — and the Italians seem to be attracted by 
splendour. One thing however, at least, must be 
remarked in favour of the churches — they are always 
open. Piety will never, in this country, find the 
church doors shut in her face. Service seems to be 
going en all day and every day. The favourite altar 
at this time— for the altar itself is not exempt from 
the influence of fashion — is at the S. Nunziata. In 
asking my way to La Santa Nunziata, I was often 
corrected with " Caro lei, la Santissima Nunziata e 
di /a" — as if the omission of the superlative had 
given offence ; — but the attraction even of an altar 
has its day. 

24th. Again to the Pitti. A catalogue of pictures 
is a sad dull business; — and I must rather endea- 
vour to record my own sentiments and reflections. 
The cant of criticism, and the dogmatism of know- 
ledge, would confine all right of judgment upon 
painting and sculpture to those alone who have been 
duly initiated in the mysteries of virtu; whereas it 
seems to me, that it is with painting and sculpture — 



1817.] REFLECTIONS ON PAINTING. 49 

as Johnson has pronounced it to be with poetry — it 
is by the common sense of mankind, after all, that 
the claims to excellence must finally be decided. 

Painting, considered as a fine art, is principally 
valuable, as it is historical, or poetical ; by which 
terms I would not be understood to signify the ideas 
usually attached to them ; — but by an historical 
picture, I mean one which represents the subject as 
it really was; by a poetical — one which represents 
the subject as it existed in the mind of the painter. 
Mere excellence of execution is, I think, the lowest 
claim a painter can advance to admiration. As well 
might a literary production rest its pretensions upon 
the mere beauties of the style. If the composition 
neither please the imagination, nor inform the un- 
derstanding, to what purpose is its being written in 
elegant language ? In the same manner, drawing 
and colours — the language of painting — can as 
little, of themselves, form a title to praise. 

When I visit collections of paintings, I go to have 
my understanding instructed, my senses charmed, 
my feelings roused, 1x13/ imagination delighted or 
exalted. If none of these effects be produced, it is 
in vain to tell me that a picture is painted with the 
most exact attention to all the rules of art. At such 
pictures I look without interest, and turn away from 
them with indifference. If any sensation be excited, 
it is a feeling of regret that such powers of style 
should have existed without any sparks of that Pro- 
methean heat, which alone confers upon them any 
real value. If this be wanting, it is in vain that a 
connoisseur descants upon the merits of the drawing, 

E 



50 PITTI COLLECTION RAPHAEL. [NOV. 

the correctness of the perspective, and the skill of 
the arrangement. These are mere technical beau- 
ties, and may be interesting to the student in paint- 
ing ; but the liberal lover of the arts looks for those 
higher excellencies, which have placed painting in 
the same rank with poetry. For what, in fact, are 
the works of Michael Angelo — Raphael — Murillo 
— Salvator Rosa — Claude — Nicholas Poussin — and 
Sir Joshua Reynolds, but the sublime and enchant- 
ing — the terrific and heart-rending conceptions of 
a Homer — a Virgil — a Shakspeare — a Dante — a 
Byron — or a Scott, "turned into shapes!" — They 
are the kindred productions of a congenial in- 
spiration. 

Yet, I would not be understood to deny all merit 
to mere excellence of execution. I would only wish 
to ascertain its true place in the scale. The perfect 
imitation of beautiful nature in the landscapes of 
Hobbima or Ruysdaal — the blooming wonders that 
expand under the pencil of Van-Huysum — and the 
exquisite finishing of Gerhard Douw's laborious 
patience — cannot be viewed with absolute indiffer- 
ence. Still less would I wish to deny the praise 
that is due to the humorous productions of Teniers, 
Hogarth, or Wilkie. These have a peculiar merit 
of their own, and evince the same creative powers 
of mind which are exhibited by the true vis comica 
in the works of literature. 

The collection in the Pitti abounds in every variety 
of excellence. There are eight Raphaels. It is dif- 
ficult to speak with moderation of Raphael. Those 
who undervalue him rate him by his worst produc- 



I 



1S17.] TITTI COLLECTION VANDYKE. 51 

tions, of which there are some to be found of a very 
ordinary merit; — those who admire him look only 
to his best — and these are above all praise. The 
character of his genius was extraordinary. Most 
painters may almost be said to have been born so ; 
and I think Sir Joshua Reynolds and Mr. West 
have expressed something like a feeling of humilia- 
tion, upon finding, at threescore, how very little 
they could add to the first juvenile productions of 
their pencils. Raphael was a genius of a slower 
growth; and it would be difficult to discover, in the 
hard dry outlines of his first manner, any indication 
of that felicity of conception and execution which is 
so conspicuous in his maturer works. His females 
are beings of an exclusive species ; and if he painted 
from nature, he was fortunate in his acquaintance. 
The Madonna is a subject which he has appropriated 
and made his own : — it is only tolerable in his 
hands ; — or, at least, after seeing his, there is no 
tolerating any other ; — Guido's sky-blue draperies 
to the contrary notwithstanding. 

Raphael's Madonna della Segyiola unites the 
most opposite graces ; — there is a refined elegance, 
joined to a diffident simplicity, with a gentle tender- 
ness pervading the whole expression of her figure, 
which realizes all one's conceptions of that mother 
from whom the meek Jesus — who, in the agonies of 
death, offered up a prayer for his executioners — 
derived his human nature. His portraits too are 
excellent, combining the force and the richness of 
the Flemish and Venetian schools, and are second 
only to the happiest efforts of Vandyke. 

e 2 



52 PITTI COLLECTION SALVATOR ROSA. [/NOV. 

Vandyke must ever be the prince of portrait 
painters. He is at once historical and poetical. Any 
dauber may paint a sign-post likeness ; but a por- 
trait must have spirit and character as well as re- 
semblance. Vandyke seems to embody, in one 
transient expression of the countenance — which is 
all that a painter can give — the whole character of 
his subject. The Bentivoglio is a magnificent speci- 
men of his talent in this way. The subject is worthy 
of his pencil, and seems to have pleased him. It is 
a full length — dressed in a Cardinal's robes. The 
head in Lavater was probably taken from this 
picture, but it has lost a great deal by being sepa- 
rated from the figure ; — the attitude and command- 
ing air of which are admirable. 

Salvator Rosa is to me the most poetical of ail 
painters ; by which I mean, not only that he pos- 
sesses that mens divinior, that mysterious power over 
the grand, the sublime, and the terrible, which con- 
stitutes the soul of a poet ; — but also, that he minis- 
ters more than any other painter to the imagination 
of the spectator. There is always a something more 
than meets the eye, in his wild and romantic sketches, 
which awakens a train of associations, and sets in 
motion the airy nothings of the fancy. You may 
look at his pictures for ever, without feeling the least 
satiety. There is a battle of his in the Pitti, which 
might serve as a study to all the poets who have 
sung of battles — from Homer down to Walter Scott. 
What a picture he would have made of the witches 
in Macbeth, which Sir Joshua Reynolds has ma- 
naged so unhappily ; — or of Meg Merrilies hurling 



1S17.] PITTI COLLECTION. 53 

her parting imprecations upon the Laird of Ellan- 
gowan ! He seems to be in painting what Byron 
is in poetry, or Kean in acting; — and it would be 
difficult to praise him more. There is a portrait of 
himself, by himself, that promises all the genius 
which is exhibited in his works. 

The Four Philosophers — a splendid picture by 
Rubens — worthy of the master of Vandyke. 

The Fates — one of the few oil paintings that 
Michael Angelo has given us — are finely conceived — 

facies non omnibus una, 



Xec diversa tamen, qualem decet esse sororum. 

The features remind one of the portrait of Dante. 
There is something quite appalling in the solemn 
severity — the terrible gravity of their demeanour. 
They might stand for the weird sisters of Shakspeare, 
if the witches be indeed sublime ; — but I fear that 
" mounchH and mounchH and mounch't" brings them 
down to the level of old women. 

Luther and Calvin, by Giorgioni, detained me a 
long while, though perhaps more from the interest 
of the subject than the merit of the painting. I 
fancied I read in the harsh lines of Calvin's coun- 
tenance that brutal spirit which could enjoy the 
spectacle of the sufferings of his victim Servetus, 
and find materials for ridicule in the last afflicting 
agonies of affrighted nature. 

A St. John in the Wilderness, by Andrea del 
Sarto, in the last room, is the only picture I have 
seen that might form an exception to Forsyth's 
character of that painter ; who says " He has neither 



54 FLORENCE GAEINETTO FISICO. [NOV. 

poetry in his head, nor pathos in his heart." — But 
enough of pictures for the present. 

25th. Visited the Gabinetto Fisico. This is a 
shockingly accurate imitation of dissected subjects, 
in wax. I went in immediately after breakfast, and 
was as much discomposed as I could have been by 
so many real carcasses. It is too horrible, and, it 
might be added, too indecent an exhibition for mis- 
cellaneous admission. Yet all the world, men and 
women, lounge there ; — though all that is revolting 
and disgusting in disease or deformity is laid bare 
and exposed, with a nakedness that can only be 
gratifying to the eye of science. The commence- 
ment and progress of the fatal plague at Florence is 
represented in miniature ; and, from the effect pro- 
duced by looking at it, I am inclined to believe what 
is said — that if it had been made as large as life, it 
would have been too horrible for exhibition. Gallery 
again. 

26th. The most interesting church here is the 
S. Croce — the Westminster Abbey of Florence — 
for here are the bones and the tombs of Galileo, 
Machiavelli, Michael Angelo, and Alfieri. Ma- 
chiavelli's epitaph is a good specimen of that brevity, 
which, when well managed, makes an epitaph so 
impressive — 

Tanto nomini nullum par elogium. 
Nicholaus Machiavelli. 

Michael Angelo is buried, according to his own 
desire, so that his grave might command a view of 
the cupola of the Cathedral — the work of Brun- 



1817.] RAPHAEL MORGHEN. 55 

nelleschi ; which suggested to him the idea of his 
own grander work at St. Peter's. 

The Florentines would gladly have recovered the 
bones of Dante, whom they exiled, to die at Ra- 
venna ; and they point with pride to an original 
picture of him in fresco on the wall of the cathedral. 

27th. Bitterly cold. A Siberian wind from the 
Apennines cuts one to the heart. This is no place 
for the winter. The scene must be changed ; — but 
whither? — Pisa will never do, after Florence. It is 
as well to die of consumption as of ennui. All the 
world is going to Rome — and every body says that 
Rome is a charming place in the winter. What 
every body says must be true ; — and I shall swim 
with the stream. 

28th to 5th December. Very unwell. My sur- 
geon attributes my illness to the water, which, he 
says, is very noxious here. I believe it has more to 
do with the air, for it is more cold than ever I felt 
it in England, whatever the thermometer may say 
to the contrary. 

6th. A long morning at Morghen's ; — the first 
engraver in the world. His Last Supper, from the 
picture of Leonardo da Vinci, is the triumph of en- 
graving. It is pity that he did not engrave the 
Madonna della Seggiola at a later period, in his best 
and softest manner. How could he throw away his 
time and his labour on the Madonna del Sacco ; — 
the fresco daub of Andrea del Sarto ? Gallery again. 

Met a funeral procession with a military guard. 
Upon inquiry, I found the defunct was a Jew, and 
that the precaution was necessary as a protection 
against the insults of the populace. 



56 BERTOLINI. [NOV. 

Sunday 7th. Bertolini's Studio. There is no 
sculptor of eminence now at Florence. Bertolini is 
an excellent workman, and takes admirable like- 
nesses ; and if he were employed less in this way, 
might succeed in original composition. It is now 
the fashion among the English to sit to him ; and 
you find all your acquaintance drawn up in fearful 
array, in hard marble ; — some at full length ! If 
this fashion hold, it will give posterity some trouble. 
Family pictures are easily put out of the way; but 
family statues would be sadly durable lumber — un- 
less, indeed, they found their way to the limekiln. 

The cheapness of sculpture here must injure our 
English artists. Casts have been imported from 
London of the busts of the King, Fox, Pitt, Nelson, 
Perceval, and many others. These Bertolini repro- 
duces in marble, and sends back to London, all ex- 
penses of carriage included, for twenty-two pounds 
each. 

Made a circuit of the palaces. The Corsini and 
(?mm have each of them a fine collection of pictures. 
I was particularly struck with two, by Carlo Dolci, 
whose productions are generally too cloying for my 
taste. The first is the figure of Poetry in the Corsini 
palace — one of the most beautiful countenances I 
ever saw ; — the charms of which are lighted up by 
that indefinable expression, which makes the face 
the index of the mind, and gives the assurance, at 
the first glance, of intellectual superiority. The 
other is the Martyrdom of St. Andrew in the Gerini 
palace; — a most affecting picture; the impression 
of which is aided by every excellence of arrange 
ment, contrast, and colouring. 



1817.] 



FLORENCE MOZZI PALACE. 



57 



At the Mozzi palace is Benvermto's picture of the 
Saxons taking the Oath of Confederation, after the 
battle of Jena. The figure of Napoleon is admira- 
ble ; and is said to be one of the best portraits 
extant of that extraordinary being. 

Vespers at the Duomo ; — afterwards to the Cascine 
— the public drive and promenade — in a word — the 
Hyde-park of Florence. 



5S [dec- 



CHAPTER III. 

Journey to Rome — The Forum — Palace of the Caesars — 
Climate — Tombs— The Tiber — Temple of Vesta — Cloaca 
Maxima — Baths of Caracalla — Fountain of Egeria. 

Monday, 8th December. Left Florence with a 
friend, who had a seat to let in his caleche ; — and 
we agreed to travel together. Having met with a 
courier, who was working his way home and offered 
to serve us for his expenses, we engaged him to 
accompany us ; — though nothing but our complete 
inexperience of Italian travelling would have recon- 
ciled me to such an ostentatious piece of extra- 
vagance. 

This man's business is to ride on before you ; get 
the horses ready at the post-houses ; and prepare 
for your reception at the inns where you may be 
inclined to halt. Carlo, I believe, protects us from 
much imposition ; and as he conducts all the dis- 
bursements and disputes on the road, which are in 
fact synonymous terms — for every bill is a battle — 
what he saves us in breath and temper is incalcu- 
lable. 

The road to Sienna is hilly and tedious, and we 
did not arrive till after dark. 

9th. Left Sienna long before it was light in the 
morning ; being in some anxiety about passing the 
Ricorsi, a mountain-torrent, which, at this season, 
is very liable to be swollen by the rains, and has 



1817.] JOURNEY TO ROME. 59 

sometimes detained travellers on the road for many 
days. The Guide Book informs you, quaintly 
enough, that you will have to pass it four times — if 
yon are not swallowed up in either of the first three. 
Having safely forded this stream, we arrived, at the 
close of evening, at Acquapendente. The accom- 
modations here were so uninviting, that we pro- 
ceeded on to S. Lorenzo; and as it was now quite 
dark, my companion would insist upon taking a 
small escort of cavalry. This I thought unwise ; — 
it was making sure of being pillaged by the sol- 
diers ; — whereas the danger from robbers was only 
contingent. * 

At S. Lorenzo we found that we had fallen from 
the frying-pan into the fire. The inn had a most 
unfrequented appearance, and our arrival was the 
signal of destruction to some poor fowls, who were 
quietly at roost — dreaming of that to-morrow which 
was never to come. 

10th. We rose early again, and breakfasted at 
Bolsena, on the borders of the lake. The inhabit- 
ants bear ample testimony, by their pale and sickly 
appearance, to the existence of the malaria. 
Throughout this day, the road was beautiful ; — 
commanding every variety of prospect ; — hill and 
dale, wood and water. 

The environs of Viterbo, bold and beautiful. — 
Halted for the night at Baccano; — the inn of which 
has been undeservedly denounced by Forsyth. What- 
ever may be said of the roast beef of old England, 
I think we might learn much from our neighbours 
in the science of good living. The inns in Italy 



60 ARRIVAL AT ROME. [DEC. 

are generally better than those of an equal class in 
England. What can a traveller hope to find at a 
country-inn in England but the choice of a beef- 
steak, a mutton-chop, or a veal-cutlet ? For one of 
these, with some bad beer, or worse wine, he will 
be charged more than he will pay in Italy for an 
abundance and variety of dishes. The wines of the 
country are light, pleasant, and wholesome; and in 
th^t great article of a traveller's comfort — his bed 
— Italy has again the advantage. Instead of the 
suffocating feather-beds of England, you find every 
where an elastic refreshing mattress, which will 
conduce to ensure a good night's sleep, in spite of 
the dreary unfurnished room in which it is placed. 

11th. We rose early in order to reach Rome in 
good time. It was a rainy day; so that when we 
ascended the hill about two miles from Baccano, 
from which we ought to have seen Rome — we saw 
nothing. The approach to Rome is as all travellers 
have described it. You pass over miles of a barren 
common, much like Hounslow Heath ; and when, 
at last, you arrive at the gate of the Eternal City, 
the first impression is, I think, a feeling of disap- 
pointment. But this, perhaps, may be referred to 
the exaggerated expectations, in which, till philo- 
sophy and experience have given sobriety to our 
views, we are all too prone to indulge. We have 
only to consider the limited powers of man, and to 
examine what he has been able to do, with a refer- 
ence to his means of performance, and the tone of 
our expectations will be lowered to a just level. 
W T e were soon in the Piazza dl Spagna — the focus 



1S17.] ROME. 61 

of fashion, and the general resort of the English. 
Some travellers have compared it to Grosvenor- 
square; but the Piazza di Spagna is little more 
than an irregular open space, a little less nasty than 
the other piazzas in Rome, because the habits of 
the people are in some measure restrained by the 
presence of the English. Still, there is quite 
enough left to make me believe the Romans the 
nastiest people in Christendom — if I had not seen 
the Portuguese. 

The English swarm even* where. We found all 
the inns full. It seemed like a country town in 
England at an assizes. To look for lodgings was 
impossible, for it rained unmercifully. By the way, 
when it does rain here, it pours with a downright 
vehemence, that we are but little accustomed to in 
England. We got a resting-place for the night 
with some difficulty, at the Hotel de Paris. Dear 
and bad. 

12th. Signed the articles of a triumvirate with 
two friends, who were on the same pursuit after 
lodgings with myself. Established ourselves at No. 
43, Via degli Otto Cantoni, Cor so. This situation 
is bad. There are two fish-stalls under my window, 
the people belonging to which commence their voci- 
ferations as soon as it is light. There is, however, 
at least, more variety in these cries than in the per- 
petual " All alive ho I" of London. The Italian 
fishmonger displays all the humour he is master of 
to get rid of his stock, and he will sometimes apos- 
trophize his stale mullet with ludicrous efTronterv; 
— " Pesci! cosa fate ? Pesci/ statevi cheti /" But 



62 ROME. [DEC. 

the worst objection to our lodgings is their height. 
We are on the quarto piano ; — a hundred and four 
steps from the ground — though this objection relates 
only to convenience; for it is by no means mauvais 
ton in Rome, to live in the upper story, which does 
not at all answer to our garret. Here — your ap- 
proach to heaven does not in the least detract from 
your gentility. 

Our lodgings consist of two sitting-rooms, three 
bed-rooms, servant's room, and kitchen; for which 
we pay thirty sequins, about fifteen pounds English, 
per month. The charge of a traiteur for supplying 
you with dinner at home, varies from six to ten pauls 
per head. We get Orvietto wine at something less 
than two pauls a bottle. This wine is pleasant, 
though it is said to be very unwholesome. But the 
wine of wines is Velletri, which costs us little more 
than a paul a bottle ; and a bottle holds nearly two 
English quarts. The paul is something less than 
sixpence, forty-four being the value of a pound 
sterling, when the exchange is at par. 

December 13th to 25th. Sight-seeing. Of the 
sights at Rome it is impossible to say nothing — and 
it is difficult to say any thing new. What so many 
have told, who would tell again ? — I must be con- 
tent to record first impressions. 

There are two modes of seeing Rome — the topo- 
graphical — followed by Vasi, who parcels out the 
town into eight divisions, and jumbles every thing 
together — antiquities, churches, and palaces — if their 
situation be contiguous ; — and the chronological — 
which would carry you regularly from the house of 



1817.] rome. 63 

Romulus, to the palace cf the reigning Pontiff. 
The first mode is the most expeditious, and the least 
expensive ; — for even if the traveller walk a-foot, the 
economy of time is worth considering ; — and, after 
all that can be urged in favour of the chronological 
order, on the score of reason, Vasi's plan is perhaps 
the best. For whatever is worth seeing at all is 
worth seeing twice. Vasi's mode hurries you through 
every thing, but it enables you to select and note 
down those objects that are worthy of further exa- 
mination, and these may be afterwards studied at 
leisure. Of the great majority of sights, it must be 
confessed that all we obtain for our labour is — the 
knowledge that they are not worth seeing ; — but this 
is a knowledge that no one is willing to receive upon 
the authority of another, and Vasi's plan offers a 
most expeditious mode of arriving at this truth by 
one's own proper experience. His plan is indeed 
too expeditious, for he would get through the whole 
town, with all its wonders, ancient and modern — in 
eight days ! This might suit Young Rapid exactly, 
but I am content to follow the course he has chalked 
out at a more leisurely pace. 

As a guide to Rome, Vasi's book is worth all the 
books of travels put together. It is all that it pro- 
fesses to be, and no more — a mere catalogue ; but 
it is comprehensive and accurate. There is nothing 
to direct the taste or influence the judgment ; but a 
traveller should observe for himself, and it is much 
better that he should not see through the eyes cf 
others. Forsyth's book is a mine of original re- 
marks, expressed in the most forcible language; but 



64 ROME. [DEC. 

one laments that the author did not live to complete 
a work, of which his present volume is little more 
than the Text- Book. 

Eustace, notwithstanding the many charms of his 
book, is not the most accurate of all travellers ; and 
one is sometimes led to doubt whether he really ever 
saw the places he describes. 

If a book of travels must be taken as a guide, 
Lalande's is perhaps the best, which is full of lore 
and learning : but it is as dull and dry as Vasi's 
Catalogue — and a great deal longer. 

Some remains of the Palatine — the Capitoline — 
the Celian — the Aventine — the Quirinal — the Vimi- 
nal — and the Esquiline Hills — are still to be distin- 
guished. The most interesting relics will be found 
on the two first — the oldest establishments of Rome ; 
for the first foundations of Romulus were limited to 
the Palatine Hill. 

Porta est, ait, ista, Palati ; 



Hie stator, hoc primum condita Roma loco est. 

Ovid. 

The best view of the site of ancient Rome is from 
the tower of the modern capitol. The modern city 
has been so much elevated by the rubbish and di- 
lapidation of centuries, that it is matter of surprise 
the shape and situation of the ancient hills still 
remain so visible. The pavement of old Rome is 
often discovered at a depth of forty feet. Every 
thing is developed by excavation; and the Coliseum 
itself loses much of its effect by the mound of earth 
accumulated around it. One may judge of the 
greatness of the wreck, from the effects thus pro- 



IS17.] ROME FORUM. 65 

duced by its overthrow. Still, however, we shall be 
at a loss to find room for the three millions, which 
is not the highest estimate that is given, as the 
amount of the ancient population. It is rather the 
quality of what remains, than the quantity, that im- 
presses one with an idea of the grandeur and mag- 
nificence of ancient Rome. There is the fragment 
of a cornice, lying in the gardens of Colonna Palace, 
which looks as if it had been brought from the land 
of Brobdignag ; — for no pillars of present existence 
could support an entablature of such gigantic pro- 
portions, as that of which this cornice must have 
formed a part. One might imagine some great con- 
vulsion of nature had swallowed up the city, and 
left a few fragments to tell the tale of its existence 
to other times. 

One of my first excursions was to the Forum. It- 
is difficult to conceive, and impossible to describe, 
the effect produced by the admonitus locorum of 
this memorable scene — reduced as it now is again 
to something like the state which Virgil describes, 
in the days of Evander ; — 

Passimque armenta videbant, 
Romanoque foro et lautis mugire Carinis. 

The Roman forum is now the Campo Vacciiio, the 
papal Smithfield; but it is still the finest walk in 
the world ; and I doubt whether, in the proudest 
days of its magnificence, it could have interested a 
spectator more than it now does — fallen as it is from 
its high estate. Nothing can be more striking, or 
more affecting, than the contrast between what it 
was — and what it is. There is enough in the totter- 

F 



66 ROME THE COLISEUM. [DEC. 

ing ruins which yet remain, to recall the history of 
its ancient grandeur; while its present misery and 
degradation are obtruded upon you at every step. 
Here Horace lounged; — here Cicero harangued; — 
and here now, the modern Romans count their beads 
— kill their pigs — cleanse their heads — and violate 
the sanctity of the place by every species of abomi- 
nation. 

The walk from the Capitol to the Coliseum com- 
prises the history of ages. The broken pillars that 
remain of the Temple of Concord, the Temple of 
Jupiter Tonans, and the Comitium, tell the tale of 
former times, in language at once the most pathetic 
and intelligible ; — it is a mute eloquence, surpassing 
all the powers of description. It would seem as if 
the destroying angel had a taste for the picturesque ; 
— for the ruins are left just as the painter would 
most wish to have them. 

The arches of the emperors scarcely appear in 
harmony with the rest of the scene, and do not ac- 
cord with the magnificent scale of all around them. 
I doubt whether Titus's arch be wider or higher than 
Temple Bar. 

The Duchess of Devonshire is excavating round 
Phocas's Pillar; — re-making the gulf which Curtius 
closed. Criminals in chains are employed in this 
work, under the superintendence of a military guard; 
— but, if patriotism and virtue be again necessary 
to fill up the chasm, where shall we find the ma- 
terials here ? 

Of the Coliseum more hereafter ; — for the first 
impression of the Via Sacra is so overwhelming, 



1817.] ROME PALACE OF THE CLESARS. 67 

that the mind is lost in its own reflections, and has 
no leisure for the examination of details. 

Marius, in his exile, sitting amongst the ruins of 
Carthage, must have been an affecting spectacle. 
Napoleon, amongst the ruins of Rome, would per- 
haps afford as striking a picture; — but Napoleon 
never was in Rome. If he had returned victorious 
from Russia, it is said that he had intended to make 
a triumphal entry into the Eternal City, and to be 
crowned in St. Peter's. 

The Palace of the Ccesars. The whole of this 
region, comprehending all that remains of the resi- 
dence of the emperors, and the golden house of 
Nero, is now a desert, full of ruins, and fragments 
of temples, and baths — presenting an awful picture 
of fallen greatness. The spot is beautiful, and 
commands a fine view of Rome. The soil seems 
rich, if one may judge from the crops of cabbages 
and artichokes, which it is now made to produce. 
Great part, however, of this vast tract is covered 
with wild brushwood, where you may easily lose 
yourself, if you will. In my last stroll through this 
wilderness, I encountered a Fox, who paused for a 
moment to stare at me; — as if he were doubting 
which of the two was to be considered as the in- 
truder. This Fox seems to be the genius of the 
place, and delights to show himself to all travellers. 
There are some remains of a terrace, overlooking the 
Circus Maximus, from which the emperors gave the 
signal for the commencement of the games. 

In another quarter are three rooms, discovered 
about forty years ago. These chambers are in good 

f 2 



68 ROME CLIMATE. [DEC. 

preservation, and afford a sample of the ancient 
Roman taste in the construction and proportions of 
their apartments. They seem to have received their 
light, like the Pantheon, from a hole in the ceiling ; 
and instead of the formal square which so much 
prevails in modern rooms, each of the four sides in 
these is broken into a circular recess or bow. The 
same accumulation of soil seems to have taken place 
here, on the Palatine Hill, as elsewhere ; for these 
chambers, which must have been once on the sur- 
face, are now thirty feet below ground. These 
rooms appear to me to be models of proportion, and 
the effect of the loose flowing outline, produced by 
the hollowing out of the sides into recesses, is much 
more pleasing than the harsh angular preciseness of 
a parallelogram. 

Dec. 20th. The more I see of Italy, the more I 
doubt whether it be worth while for an invalid to 
encounter the fatigues of so long a journey, for the 
sake of any advantages to be found in it, in respect 
of climate, during the winter. To come to Italy, 
with the hope of escaping the winter, is a grievous 
mistake. This might be done by alternately chang- 
ing your hemisphere, but in Europe it is impossible; 
and I believe that Devonshire, after all, may be the 
best place for an invalid during that season. If the 
thermometer be not so low here, the temperature is 
more variable, and the winds are more bitter and 
cutting. In Devonshire too, all the comforts of the 
country are directed against cold ; — here, all the 
precautions are the other way. The streets are 
built to exclude as much as possible the rays of the 



1817.] ROME THE TOMBS. 69 

sun, and are now as damp and cold as rain and 
frost can make them. And then, what a difference 
between the warm carpet, the snug elbowed chair, 
and the blazing coal-fire of an English winter 
evening, and the stone staircases, marble floors, and 
starving casements of an Italian house ! — where 
every thing is designed to guard against the heat of 
summer; which occupies as large a proportion of 
the Italian year, as the winter season does our own. 
The only advantage of Italy then is, that your 
penance is shorter than it would be in England; 
for I repeat that, during the time it lasts, winter is 
more severely felt here than at Sidmouth, where I 
would even recommend an Italian invalid to repair, 
from November till February — if he could possess 
himself of Fortunatus's cap, to remove the difficul- 
ties of the journey. 

Having provided myself with a warm cloak, 
which is absolutely necessary where the tempera- 
ture varies twenty degrees between one street and 
another, I have been proceeding leisurely through 
the wonders of Rome. In travelling round the 
circuit of the antiquities, it is curious to remark how 
the scale of buildings gradually increases, from the 
little modest temple of Vesta, to the temple of For- 
tuna Virllis, and the other works of the republic, 
till they swell out into colossal magnificence, in the 
vast works of Nero, Vespasian, and Caraealla. 

The same remark may be extended to the tombs ; 
and the same growing taste for ostentation may be 
traced from the earlier days of the republic to the 
tomb of Caecilia Metella, the wife of Crassus. Au- 



70 HOME THE TIBER. [DEC. 

gust us carried this taste farther in his mausoleum ; 
— though he was at least social enough to admit his 
family. Adrian, at last, outdid all former outdoings, 
and constructed that enormous pile, which is now 
the Castle of St. Angelo, for the exclusive accom- 
modation of his own single carcass. 

Dec. 21st. The Tiber has been very differently 
described by different writers. Some have degraded 
it to a ditch; — while others have exalted it to an 
equality with the finest rivers in Europe. There 
are those again, who, admitting its pretensions in 
other respects, find fault with its colour — " nuere 
hunc lutulentum." The first sight of it has, I 
believe, generally occasioned a feeling of disap- 
pointment. But when we come to admeasurement, 
we find that at the Pons Mlius, now the Ponte S. 
Angelo, the breadth is about 212 English feet. 
This is the narrowest point; — and certainly if we 
apply to this part of the river Horace's prescription 
for a ffood night's rest — 



ter uncti 



Transnanto Tiberim, somno quibus est opus alio — 
even less accomplished swimmers than Lord Byron 
and Leander might object to it as inadequate. At 
the Pons Milvius however, now the Ponte Molle, the 
breadth increases ; and two miles above Rome, the 
river is nearly twice as broad as it is within the 
walls. This contraction of the stream within the 
town will be a sufficient explanation of the destruc- 
tive inundations which have taken place at various 
periods. 

Some remains of the Sublician Bridge still exist ; 



J 817.] ROME CLOACA MAXIMA. 71 

— and your guide would wish you to believe that 
this was the scene of Horatius Codes' gallantry. 
But in travelling round the antiquities of Rome, 
there is, I fear, great occasion for scepticism, with 
respect to the propriety of the names that have been 
so confidently applied to many of them. 

The Temple of Vesta, a pretty modest little build- 
ing, seems to belong to this doubtful order; — 
though here, the doubt is, not whether it is a temple 
of Yesta, but the temple of Yesta. Its situation on 
the bank of the river seems to accord with Horace's 
Monumenta Vestce ; and its geography will agree 
with the venhmi erat acl Vestce of the ninth satire, 
where it is represented as lying in his way from the 
Via Sacra to the gardens of Csssar, trans Tiberim ; 
— nor is Ovid's description at all unsuitable to it; 
Hie locus exiguus qui sustinet atria Vesta?, 
Jam fuit intonsi regia parva Numae. 

In this quarter of the town, you see a part of the 
Cloaca Maxima; — this is one of the most curious 
and interesting remains of Roman magnificence; 
and it has given rise to much difference of opinion 
with respect to the period when these works were 
constructed. Ferguson has stated some historic 
doubts in a note to his Roman Republic, which are 
worth attention. " The common sewers were exe- 
cuted at a great expense. It was proposed that 
they should be of sufficient dimensions to admit a 
waggon loaded with hay. (Plin. lib. xxxvi. c. 15.) 
When these common sewers came to be obstructed, 
under the republic, the censors contracted to pay a 
thousand talents, or about 193,000 pounds, for 



72 ROME CLOACA MAXIMA. [DEC. 

clearing and repairing- them. (Dionys. Hal. lib. iii. 
c. 67.) They were again inspected at the accession 
of Augustus ; and clearing their passages is men- 
tioned amongst the great works of Agrippa. He is 
said to have turned the course of seven rivers into 
these subterraneous canals, to have made them 
navigable, and to have actually passed in barges 
under the streets and buildings of Rome. These 
works are still supposed to remain; but as they 
exceed the power and resources of the present city 
to keep them in repair, they are concealed from the 
view, except at one or two places. They were, in 
the midst of the Roman greatness, and still are 
reckoned among the wonders of the world ; and yet 
they are said to have been the works of the elder 
Tarquin, a prince whose territory did not extend, in 
any direction, above sixteen miles; and, on this 
supposition, they must have been made to accom- 
modate a city that was calculated chiefly for the 
reception of cattle, herdsmen, and banditti. 

" Rude nations sometimes execute works of great 
magnificence, as fortresses, and temples, for the 
purposes of superstition or war ; but seldom palaces, 
and still more seldom works of mere convenience 
and cleanliness, in which, for the most part, they 
are long defective. It is not unreasonable, there- 
fore, to question the authority of tradition, in respect 
to this singular monument of antiquity, which ex- 
ceeds what many well-accommodated cities of 
modern Europe have undertaken for their own con- 
veniency. And as those works are still entire, and 
may continue so for thousands of years, it may be 



1817.] BATHS OF CARACALLA. 73 

suspected that they existed even prior to the settle- 
ment of Romulus, and may have been the remains 
of a more ancient city, on the ruins of which the 
followers of Romulus settled, as the Arabs now hut 
or encamp on the ruins of Palmyra and Balbec. 
Livy owns that the common sewers were not accom- 
modated to the plan of Rome, as it was laid out in 
his time : they were carried in directions across the 
streets, and passed under the buildings of the greatest 
antiquity. This derangement, indeed, he imputes 
to the hasty rebuilding of the city, after its destruc- 
tion by the Gauls \ but haste, it is probable, would 
have determined the people to build on their old 
foundations, or at least not to change them so much 
as to cross the direction of former streets. When 
the only remaining accounts of an ancient monu- 
ment are absurd or incredible, it follows, of course, 
that the real account of the times in which it was 
erected is not known." 

Such is the note of Ferguson, which is well enti- 
tled to consideration : though it is difficult to recon- 
cile the existence of a more ancient city, on the site 
of the city of Romulus, with the entire silence of 
history and tradition; — unless, indeed, we carry it 
up to a period so remote, as would throw an awful 
mystery over the first origin of the Eternal City, 
connecting it with times, of which there are no 
more traces than of the Mammoth or the Mastodon. 

22d. Caracallcfs Baths and Palace. The ruins 
of this Palace are, next to the Coliseum, the most 
striking proof that remains of the grandeur of the 
Roman buildings. It was here that some of the 



74 * caracalla's circus. [dec. 

finest pieces of sculpture were discovered; the 
famous Torso, the Hercules Farnese, the Flora, 
and the group known by the name of the Toro 
Farnese. This enormous pile of ruins has rather 
the appearance of the remains of a town than of a 
single palace. From what is left we may form 
some notion of the form and proportions of the 
splendid Cella Solearis, or the Hall of Sandals, of 
which we have such a superb description. " Cellam 
solearem architecti negani posse ulla imitatione qua 
facta est fieri" The baths are underground; one 
of the vaulted rooms remains entire, and sufficiently 
indicates how the rest were disposed. While the 
lower orders mixed in the same bath, rooms were 
provided for more fastidious persons, with bathing 
vessels of granite, porphyry, and basaltes ; of which 
many are now in the Museum of the Vatican. It 
is said that three thousand persons might bathe at 
the same time ; and besides the baths, there was 
everything that could minister to the gratification of 
the people; — theatres, promenades, gymnasia, libra- 
ries, and magnificent porticoes, to protect them from 
sun and rain; — where philosophers walked, and 
talked, and taught. Such were the baths, or rather 
the ThermcB of the Romans ; for the baths did not 
include the same superb establishments as the 
Thermae, which have been well described as " La- 
vacra in modum provinciarum extructa" 

Caracalla's Circus, as it is called, rests on very 
doubtful authority. There is a coin of Caracalla's 
with a circus on the reverse side; — here is a circus 
that wants an owner;- — how easy the inference then, 



1817.] FOUNTAIN OF EGERIA. 75 

that it must have been Caracalla's ! It has suffered 
so little alteration from time, that the whole shape 
and extent are as distinct as they could have been 
1500 years ago. By the way, the circus of the 
Romans is any thing but a circle. It is a narrow 
oblong, with rounded ends. Up the middle ran the 
spina, round which the chariots turned; — and it 
must have required very delicate driving. The 
length of the circus is 1630 French feet, the breadth 
330. The walls of the two metce are still standing ; 
— and the obelisk, which now stands in the Piazza 
Navona, once stood in the middle of it. 

From hence I drove to the Fountain of Egeria ; 
which is doubtful again; and cannot well be re- 
conciled with the description of Juvenal, as to its 
locality. It is, however, a pretty fountain in a 
pretty valley ; and, if it be the fountain of which 
Juvenal speaks, time has at least realized his wish, 
and the water is now again inclosed, viridi mar- 
gine, " with a border of eternal green;" — and the 
only marble that profanes the native stone, is a 
headless statue, but not of the nymph Egeria; for 
it is evidently of the male sex, and was probably 
intended for the god of the stream which flowed 
from this spring. I can vouch for the excellence of 
the water, of which I took a copious draught. 



76 [dec. 



CHAPTER IV. 

St. Peter's — Resemblance between Catholic and Heathen 
Ceremonies — Christmas Day — Baths of Dioclesian — Funeral 
Kites — Palaces — Fountains — Pantheon — Tarpeian Rock — 
Close of the Year. 

December 23d. A long morning at St. Peter's — 
of which I have hitherto said nothing, though I have 
visited it often. All my expectations were answered 
by the first impression of this sublime temple. It 
may be true that, on first entering, you are less 
struck than might be supposed with the immensity 
of the building. But this, I believe, is entirely the 
fault of our eyes ; — which are, indeed, the " fools of 
the senses;" — and we are only taught to see, by 
reason and experience. In St. Peter's, so much 
attention has been paid to preserve the relative pro- 
portions of all the parts, that for some time you do 
not perceive the largeness of the scale. For ex- 
ample, the figures of the Evangelists, which decorate 
the inside of the cupola, scarcely appear to be larger 
than life, and yet the pen in St. Mark's hand is six 
feet long, from which oiie may calculate their real 
stature. 

The fact is, that nothing is great or little but by 
comparison ; and where no familiar object exists to 
assist the judgment, the eye readily accustoms itself 
to any scale. 

Gulliver says very naturally, that he lived with 



1817.] rome — st. peter's. 77 

the Brobdignagians, without being fully sensible of 
their stupendous size ; but that he was most forcibly 
impressed with it, on his return to England, by the 
contrast of his own diminutive countrymen. In the 
same manner it is, when you enter any other church, 
that you are most struck with the prodigious superi- 
ority of St. Peter's, in magnitude and grandeur. 

There is, indeed, one exception to the harmony of 
proportion in the inside of St. Peter's. The statue 
of the Apostle himself, which was changed from an 
old Jupiter Capitolinus, by a touch of the Pope's 
wand ; — this famous St. Peter is seated in an arm- 
chair, on the right hand of the altar, and is scarcely 
above the size of life. 

It was the contrast afforded by this statue, that 
first made me fully sensible of the magnitude of 
every thing else. 

It is to be lamented that Michael Angelo's plan 
was not adhered to, whose intention was, that the 
figure of the church should have been a Greek cross. 
The advantage of this form is, that it exhibits the 
w T hole structure at one coup d'ceil. In the Latin 
cross accompanied with aisles — as is the case in 
St. Peter's — the effect is frittered away, and instead 
of one great whole, there are, in fact, four churches 
under one roof. In spite, however, of all that the 
last architect has done to spoil it, St. Peter's stands, 
beyond all comparison, the most magnificent temple 
ever raised by mortal hands to the worship of the 
Supreme Being. It is a spectacle that never tires ; 
— you may visit it every day, and always find some- 
thing new to admire. Then, its temperature is 



78 ROME ST. PETEIl's. [DEC. 

delightful ; — after starving in the cold and comfort- 
less galleries of the Vatican, it is a luxury indeed to 
enjoy the mild and genial air in the interior of St. 
Peter's ; and I am told, the church is as pleasantly 
cool in summer, as it is comfortably warm in winter. 
The fact is, the walls are so thick, and it is so wholly 
free from damp, that the air within is not affected 
by that without ; so that, like a well-built cellar, it 
enjoys an equability of temperature all the year 
round. 

Immediately under the glorious cupola is the 
tomb of St. Peter, round which a hundred lamps 
are constantly burning ; and above, written in large 
characters on the frieze in the inside of the cupola, 
is this obvious, but admirably appropriate, inscrip- 
tion : — 

Tu ES PeTRUS, ET SUPER HANC PETRAM iEDIFICABO 
ECCLESIAM MEAM, ET TIBI DABO CLAVES REGNI C.ELORUM. 

Underneath is the old church, upon which the pre- 
sent temple has been built; and it is here that the 
remains of the Apostle are said to have been de- 
posited ; — though many learned men have doubted 
whether St. Peter ever was at Rome at all. Here 
too you may read, what no person who has not 
descended into this subterraneous church probably 
has read; — the histories of the reigns of Charles III., 
James IV., and Henry IX. — kings of England ! — 
for so they are styled, in the royal chronicles en- 
graved on the tombs of the Pretenders ; which, brief 
as they are, contain almost all that is memorable in 
the histories of most princes; — the dates of their 
births and their deaths. And yet, as if the present 



1317.] rome — st. peter's. 79 

tomb were not sufficient to commemorate the last of 
the Stuarts, Canova is now employed in working a 
more costly monument to the memory of Cardinal 
York — alias Henry IX. 

As there is one exception to the otherwise excel- 
lently-arranged proportions in the inside of the 
church, in the statue of St. Peter, which is insig- 
nificantly little ; so there is also one on the outside, 
in the height of the front, which is extravagantly 
too great. Architecture is so much an art of the 
square and the rule, that mere uninstructed common 
sense ought perhaps to have no voice on the subject. 
But all the world, learned and unlearned, unite in 
condemning this barbarous front. There is a draw- 
ing, in the Vatican, of the facade, as Michael Angelo 
intended it should be, which resembles closely the 
portico of the Pantheon. Maderno's frightful attic 
rises so high, that, to a spectator on the ground, 
placed at the farther extremity of the piazza of St. 
Peter's, the auxiliary cupolas are quite lost, and the 
great cupola itself is scarcely able to appear above 
its overgrown proportions. St. Peter's must not be 
judged of from engravings. The rage for embellish- 
ing has possessed more or less all the engravers of 
Rome. Piranesi, who had more taste, had perhaps 
less fidelity than any of his brethren. They have 
all endeavoured to correct the defects of Maderno's 
front, and have represented it as it never can be seen 
from the ground. So much for Maderno ; — whose 
performances at St. Peter's are thus appreciated by 
Forsyth : — " At last," says he, " a wretched plasterer 
came down from Como, to break the sacred unity 



80 rome — st. peter's. [dec. 

of the master idea, and him we must execrate for 
the Latin cross, the aisles, the attic, and the front." 

The inscription on the front, which bears the 
name of Paul V., is conceived in the true papal 
taste ; and, instead of dedicating the church at once 
to the Supreme Being, consecrates it — In honorem 
principis apostolorum. 

Adjoining and disfiguring St. Peter's are the 
Wart of the Vestry on one side, and the Wen of the 
Vatican on the other. The Vestry, however dimi- 
nutive it seems in juxta-position with such prodi- 
gious masses, is in truth itself a vast pile, built at 
an enormous expense, by Pius VI., who was pos- 
sessed with a rage for embellishing, and perpetuating 
his name by inscriptions. Over the principal en- 
trance is the following :■ — 

Quod ad Templi Vaticani or n amentum publica vota flagita- 
bant, Pius VI., Pontifex maximus, fecit, &c. 

The Italian wits seldom lose an opportunity of 
venting their satire in epigram, and the following 
distich was soon found written underneath the in- 
scription : — 

Publica ! mentiris ; — Non publica vota fuere, 
Sed tumidi ingenii vota fuere tui. 

Pius the Vlth's passion for recording his own 
glory, in the constant inscription — Munifccentia Pit 
Sexti — was, perhaps, more wittily satirized during 
a season of scarcity, when the pagnotta or little roll 
of two baiocchi, answering to our penny roll — which 
never varies in price, however its size may be affected 
by the price of corn — had shrunk to a most lament- 



1817.] rome — st. peter's. 81 

able littleness. One morning, one of these Lillipu- 
tian loaves was found in the hand of Pasquin's 
statue, with an appended scroll, in large charac- 
ters — 

MUNIFICENTIA PII SEXTI. 

24th. Another morning at St. Peter's. Nothing 
can be more grand than the approach to the church. 
Instead of being cooped up like our own St. Paul's, 
it forms the back-ground of a noble and spacious 
amphitheatre, formed by a splendid colonnade of a 
quadruple range of pillars. In the middle of this 
amphitheatre stands the Egyptian obelisk, brought 
to Rome by Caligula. This curious monument of 
the history of mankind adds great interest to the 
scene. Caligula brought it from Egypt; and, after 
purifying it from the abomination of Egyptian su- 
perstition, dedicated it with this inscription, which 
still remains : — 

Divo Csesari Divi Julii F. Augusto 
Ti. Cassari Divi Augusti F. Augusto 
Sacrum. 
But all things in this world seem made for 
change: — the same obelisk has undergone fresh 
purifications, to cleanse it from the heathen abomi- 
nations ; and it is now consecrated to Christianity. 

The following are the inscriptions on the four 
sides of its base : — 

Sixtus V. Pont : Max : Sixtus V. Pont : Max : 

Cruci invictse Obeliscum Vaticanum 

Obeliscum Vaticanum Dis gentium 

Ab impura superstitione Impio cultu dicatum 

Expiatum, justius Ad apostolorum limina 

Et felicius consecravit Operoso labore transtulit 

'Anno MDLXXXVL. Pont. II. Anno MDLXXXVL, Pont. II. 

G 



82 ROME ST. TETEr's. [DEC. 

Ecce Crux Domini Christus vincit 

Fugite Christus regnat 

Partes adverse Christus imperat 

Vicit Leo Christus ab omni malo 

De tribu Juda. Plebem suam 

Defendat. 

The fountains are magnificent. Christina, Queen 
of Sweden, thought they were made to play in ho- 
nour of her visit, and begged they might cease ; — 
at least so says the guide — but this is the kind of 
story which is told of every royal head down to 
Prince Le Boo ; who, when he first entered London, 
thought it was lighted up as a particular compli- 
ment to him. 

In giving the comparative admeasurements of St. 
Peter's and St. Paul's, Eustace seems to have been 
resolved, at all events, to exalt the superiority of the 
Catholic church above her heretical daughter. I 
know not from whence he took his dimensions ; but 
they do not accord with those on the cupola of St. 
Peter's ; which are given in every measure of Eu- 
rope. The St. Paul's mark too on the pavement in 
the inside of the church — where the lengths of the 
principal cathedrals in Europe are distinguished — 
ought to have shown him at once how much he was 
mistaken, in giving to- St. Peter's 200 feet more in 
length than St. Paul's. 

Eustace's dimensions are as follow — where he 
seems to have comprised the walls and portico of 
St. Peter's, and taken only the clear inside length 
of St. Paul's : 



1817.] ROME — st. peter's. 83 

St. Peter's. St. Paul's. 

Feet. Feet. 

700 Length 500 

500 Transept 250 

440 Height 340 

90 Breadth of the Nave ..... 60 

154 Height of the Nave 120 

Now the admeasurement of St. Peter's, taken 
from the record of the cupola, is very different ; and 
the dimensions of St. Paul's, as given in the descrip- 
tions of that church, still less agree with Eustace. 

The account taken from these sources will stand 
thus : — 

St. Peter's. St. Paul's. 
Feet. - Feet. 

673 . . Extreme length 510 

444 . . Transept 282 

448 . . Height to the top of the Cross outside . . 404 

88 . . Breadth of the Nave, 40 ; with the aisles . 107 

146 . . Height of the Nave 100 

Such things are of little importance ; but when 
one finds the admeasurement of the " accurate 
Eustace" quoted and followed by succeeding travel- 
lers, it is time to ascertain whether he be accurate, 
or not; though this may not be so easily done with 
respect to St. Peter's; for it is remarkable that 
scarcely any two books agree in the statement of its 
dimensions. 

I was surprised to find on the bronze gates of the 
church, amongst the bas-relief representations of 
scriptural subjects, my old friends — the Eagle and 
Ganymede — and a very spirited, though not over- 
decent, group of Leda and her Swan. 

g 2 



84 rome — st. peter's. [dec. 

Some traces of the old heathen superstitions are 
indeed constantly peeping out from under their 
Catholic disguises. I believe it is Warburton who 
says, that to see variety in human nature, one must 
go farther than Europe — the tour of which resem- 
bles the entertainment given to Pompey. There 
were many dishes, and a seeming variety, but when 
he examined thern closely, he found them all made 
out of one hog; — nothing but pork — differently 
disguised. I believe the remark might be extended 
farther. Human nature seems alike in all ages and 
countries. " We cannot so inoculate our old stock, 
but we shall relish of it." If anything could have 
improved the tree, one would have supposed it must 
have borne better fruit by being grafted with Chris- 
tianity; but, in many particulars — at least as far as 
Italy is concerned — all the change produced has 
been a mere change of name. For instance, amongst 
the antiquities of Rome, you are shown the house, 
or, as it is called, the Temple of Romulus ; — which 
you are told was built round the very house in 
which he lived, and has been fortified and repaired 
ever since. Need we go farther to seek for the 
prototype of the tale of Loretto? — though, in this 
instance, it must be confessed that the moderns have 
" bettered the instruction." What is the modern 
worshipping of saints and images, but a revival of 
the old adoration paid to heroes and demigods ; — or 
what the Nuns, with their vows of celibacy, but a 
new edition of the Vestal Virgins ? — auctiores cer- 
tainly, but whether emend aiiores or no — I will not 
undertake to determine. Wherever we turn indeed,, 



IS17.] rome — st. peter's. 85 

" all is old, and nothing new." What are the tales 
we hear of images of the Virgin falling from Heaven, 
but a repetition of the old fable of the Palladium ; 
which the ancients assure us was derived from the 
same celestial manufactory ? Instead of tutelary 
gods- — we find guardian angels ; — and the canoniza- 
tion of a saint, is but another term for the apotheosis 
of a hero. The processions* are closely copied 
from ancient patterns; and the lustral water and 
the incense of the Heathen Temple remain, without 
any alteration, in the holy water and the censer of 
the Catholic Church. 

It was the spirit of imitation, seeking to continue 
the Pontifex of the temple, in the Priest of the 
church, which perhaps led to the doctrine of trail 
substantiation, and the daily sacrifice of the mass — 
a ceremony which seems to be copied from the 
victims and blood-offerings of the heathen ritual, 
and little consistent with that religion which was 
founded upon the abolition of all sacrifices — by the 
offering up of the great Atonement, as a full and 
complete expiation — once for all — for the sins of the 
whole world. Again; — the mysterious ceremonial 
of Isis seems to have been revived in the indecent 

* Middleton quotes an account of a pagan procession from 
Apuleius, which, as he says, iC might pass quite as well for the 
description of a popish oue." — Antistites sacrorum candido 
linteamine — ad usque vestigia strictim injecti. Deum profere- 
bant insignes exuvias, quorum primus lucernam praemicantem 
claro porrigebatlumine, &c. — Eas amosnus lectissimsejuventutis, 
veste nivea prsenitens sequebatur chorus, carmen vermstum 
iterantes. Magnus praeterea sexus utriusque numerus, lucernis, 
tsedis, cereis. 



86 rome — st. peter's. [dec. 

emblems, presented by women, as votive offerings 
at the shrine of S. Cosmo : nay, some would trace 
the Pope himself, with his triple-crown on his head, 
and the keys of heaven and hell in his pocket — to 
our old acquaintance Cerberus, with his three heads, 
who kept guard as the custos of Tartarus and 
Elysium. 

Be this as it may — the pun of Swift is completely 
realized. The very same piece of brass, which the 
old Romans adored, now, with a new head on its 
shoulders — like an old friend with a new face — is 
worshipped with equal devotion by the modern Ita- 
lians; — and Jupiter appears again, with as little 
change of name as of materials, in the character of 
the Jew Peter. And, as if they wished to make the 
resemblance as perfect as possible, they have, in 
imitation of the 

Centum aras posuit, vigilemque sacraverat ignem 

of his pngan prototype, surrounded the tomb of the 
Apostle with a hundred ever-burning lights. It is 
really surprising to see with what apparent fervour 
of devotion all ranks, and ages, and sexes, kneel to, 
and kiss the toe of, this brazen image*. They rub 

* Though the parallel has perhaps heen carried quite far 
enough already, yet I cannot help noticing that for this, too, 
there is a heathenish precedent : see Cic. in Verrem. " Her- 
culis templum est apud Agrigentos, non longe a foro, sane 
sanctum apud illos et religiosum. Ibi est ex sere simulacrum 
ipsius Herculis, quo non facile quid qu am dixerim me vidisse 
pulchrius, usque eo, judices, ut rictum ejus ac mentum paullo 
sit attritius, quod in precious et gratulationibus non solum id 
venerari, verum etiam osculari solent." The homage paid to 



1817.] ROME CHRISTMAS-DAT. 87 

it against their foreheads, and press it against their 
lips, with the most reverential piety. I have sat by 
the hour to see the crowds of people, who flock in 
to perform this ceremony — waiting for their turn to 
kiss; — and yet the Catholic would laugh at the 
pious Mussulman, who performs a pilgrimage to 
Mecca, to wash the holy pavement, and kiss the 
black stone of the Caaba; — which, like his own 
St. Peter, is also a relic of heathenism. — Alas, poor 
human nature ! — The Catholic laughs at the Mus- 
sulman — we do not scruple to laugh at the Catholic 
— the Deist laughs at us — and the Atheist laughs 
at all. What is truth? We must %oait for an 
answer. But though all must wait the great 
teacher Death to decide between them, let us 
repose our hopes and fears, with humble confidence, 
in the promises of Christianity — not as it appears 
disfigured and disguised at Rome — but as it is 
written and recorded in that sacred volume, which, 
in the words of Locke, has " God for its author, 
salvation for its end, and truth without any mixture 
of error for its matter." 

25th. Christmas-day. A grand ceremony in the 
church of S. Maria Maggiore ; — where mass was 
performed before the pope and the cardinals. The 
night preceding this day of Christian rejoicing is 
passed in the exercises of religion. Everything is 

the mouth and chin of the Pagan Deity had an excuse which 
is wanting to the modern osculation of the Apostle's toe ; for 
there is certainly nothing in the " christened Jove" of St. 
Peter's, as a piece of sculpture, to palliate the superstition 
of its votaries. 



S8 ROME CHRISTMAS-DAY. [DEC. 

in motion; — processions of priests, and pilgrims, 
and women fill the streets; — the world of fashion 
follows in the same track; — while the peasantry 
from the country, arrayed in their holiday clothing, 
which, among the women particularly, is very showy 
and splendid, with much of scarlet and gold, flock 
into Rome; and the churches, brilliantly lighted 
up, are crowded to excess during the whole of the 
night. 

It may perhaps be doubted, whether these mid- 
night meetings are not often perverted to less holy 
purposes; — but, the great majority of those who 
attend seem to be animated by a sincere and en- 
thusiastic spirit of devotion. It is difficult for a 
Protestant so far to overcome the prejudices of his 
education, as not to feel a sentiment of disgust at 
the theatrical representations which are got up to 
commemorate the Nativity. Some show of the kind 
is prepared at all the churches, and the people flock 
from one to the other, to gaze, admire, and leave 
their Christmas offerings. The most popular and 
attractive spectacle is at the Aracseli church ; — for 
the Bambino there is the production of a miracle, 
and is said to have been dropped from heaven. Part 
of the church is fitted up like a theatre, with canvass 
scenes, canvass clouds, and canvass figures of the 
Virgin — the shepherds — the wise men — the ox — and 
the ass ; — all carefully painted with due attention to 
stage effect. The miraculous Bambino, splendidly 
accoutred, is placed in the centre of the stage, which 
is brilliantly illuminated, and offerings of fruit and 
nosegays appear in great profusion. 



1817.] ROME BATHS OF DIOCLESIAX. S9 

This disposition to represent every thing heavenly 
by sensible images, is the leading feature of the 
Romish religion ; and the Roman Catholics would 
have us believe, that the distinction between the 
sign and the thing signified is never lost sight of. 
This, I fear, is only true of the enlightened few ; — 
between whom, to whatever sect or religion they 
may belong, there is but little real difference of 
opinion. For, even amongst the old heathens, the 
initiated were taught the existence of one Almighty 
Spirit, though this doctrine was considered too 
sublime for the vulgar; whose grosser feelings were 
thought to require the interposition of some visible 
object of adoration. The Roman Catholic priests 
seem to take the same view of human nature at 
present. 

26th. The Baths of Diode sian. This vast pile 
of building, situated on the Quirinal Hill, has not 
been buried by the same accumulation of rubbish 
that has overwhelmed most of the ancient remains. 
The whole of this establishment must have occupied 
a space of at least 400 yards square. All the rest 
of the baths have been entirely dismantled of their 
magnificent columns and splendid marbles ; but the 
great hall of these — the Pinacotheca, as it was called 
— has been converted into a church by Michael 
Angelo; and the superb granite columns, each 
hewn out of a single block, forty-three feet in height, 
still remain as they stood in the days of Dioclesian; 
supporting the ancient entablature, which is very 
rich, and in the highest preservation. 

This magnificent hall is now the church of S. 



90 ROME FUNERAL CEREMONIES. [DEC. 

Maria elegit Angeli ; — the work of Michael Angelo. 
The form of the church is the Greek cross; so much 
more favourable than the Latin, for displaying at 
one coup d'oeil all the grandeur of the building. 
This church shows what St. Peter's would have 
been, if Michael Angelo's plan had been followed; 
and it is by far the finest church in Rome — except 
St. Peter's, which must always be incomparable. 

In this church is buried Salvator Rosa. 

In my way home I met a funeral ceremony. A 
crucifix hung with black, followed by a train of 
priests, with lighted tapers in their hands, headed 
the procession. Then came a troop of figures dressed 
in white robes, with their faces covered with masks 
of the same materials. The bier followed ;— on 
which lay the corpse of a young woman, arrayed in 
all the ornaments of dress, with her face exposed, 
where the bloom of life seemed yet to linger*. The 
members of different fraternities followed the bier — 
dressed in the robes of their orders — and all masked. 
They carried lighted tapers in their hands, and 
chanted out prayers in a sort of mumbling recitative. 
I followed the train to the church, for I had doubts 
whether the beautiful figure I had seen on the bier 
was not a figure of wax; but I was soon convinced 
it was indeed the corpse of a fellow-creature ; — cut 
off in the pride and bloom of youthful maiden beauty. 
Such is the Italian mode of conducting the last scene 

* It is a general custom in Italy to paint the faces of the 
dead ; and the ladies seem to agree with Pope's Narcissa : 
" One would not, sure, look frightful when one's dead ; 
And, Betty, give this cheek a little red !" 



1817.] ROME FUNERAL CEREMONIES. 91 

of the tragi-comedy of life. As soon as a person dies, 
the relations leave the house, and fly to bury them- 
selves and their griefs in some other retirement. 
The care of the funeral devolves on one of the fra- 
ternities, which are associated for this purpose in 
every parish. These are dressed in a sort of domino 
and hood ; which, having holes for the eyes, answers 
the purpose of a mask, and completely conceals the 
face. The funeral of the very poorest is thus con- 
ducted, with quite as much ceremony as need be. 
This is perhaps a better system than our own, where 
the relatives are exhibited as a spectacle to imper- 
tinent curiosity, while, from feelings of duty, they 
follow to the grave the remains of those they loved. 
But ours is surely an unphilosophical view of the 
subject. It looks as if we were materialists, and 
considered the cold clod, as the sole remains of the 
object of our affection. The Italians reason better, 
and perhaps feel as much as ourselves when they 
regard the body — deprived of the soul that animated 
and the mind that informed it — as no more a part 
of the departed spirit, than the clothes which it has 
also left behind. — The ultimate disposal of the body 
is perhaps conducted here with too much of that 
spirit which would disregard all claims that this 
mortal husk can have to our attention. As soon as 
the funeral service is concluded, the corpse is stripped, 
and consigned to those who have the care of the in- 
terment. There are large vaults, underneath the 
churches, for the reception of the dead. Those who, 
can afford it, are put into a wooden shell, before 
they are cast into one of these Golgothas ; — but the 



92 ROME PALACES. [DEC. 

great mass are tossed in without a rag to cover them. 
When one of these caverns is full, it is bricked up; 
and, after fifty years, it is opened again, and the 
bones are removed to other places, prepared for 
their reception. So much for the last scene of the 
drama of life ; — with respect to the first act — our 
own conduct of it is certainly more natural. Here 
they swathe and swaddle their children, till the poor 
urchins look like Egyptian mummies. To this 
frightful custom one may attribute the want of 
strength and symmetry of the men, which is suffi- 
ciently remarkable. 

27th. Made a tour of palaces; — splendid and 
useless. The owners live in a few obscure rooms, 
and the magnificent galleries are deserted. One of 
the most superb saloons is at the Colonna Palace. — 
A fine picture of St. John preaching in the Wilder- 
ness, by S. Rosa. In another wing is poor Beatrice 
Cenci, by Guido ; — taken the night before her exe- 
cution. It is a charming countenance ; — full of 
sweetness, innocence, and resignation. Her step- 
mother hangs near her, by whose counsel, and that 
of her confessor, she was instigated to prevent an 
incest, by the " sacrifice" of her father; — but that 
which she thought a sacrifice, was converted by her 
enemies into a " murder;" — and she lost her head 
by the hand of the executioner. 

Doria Palace. Large collection of pictures ; — 
Gaspar Poussin's green landscapes have no charms 
for me. The fact seems to be, that the delightful 
green of nature cannot be represented in a picture. 
Our own Glover has perhaps made the greatest 



1817.] ROME PALACES. 93 

possible exertions to surmount the difficulty, and 
give with fidelity the real colours of Nature ; — but 
I believe the beauty of his pictures is in an inverse 
ratio to their fidelity ; — and his failure affords an 
additional proof, that Nature must be stripped of 
her green livery, and dressed in the browns of the 
painters, or confined to her own autumnal tints, in 
order to be transferred to the canvass. Cam and 
Abel, by Salvator; — Rubens' picture of his wife; — 
a Magdalen, by Murillo ; — and a superb landscape, 
by Claude ; — are all excellent in their way. 

Corsini Palace. Here too is an excellent col- 
lection of pictures. An Ecce Homo, by Guer- 
cino ; — Prometheus, by Salvator Rosa ; — Herod ias's 
daughter, by Guido; — and Susannah, by Dome- 
nichino ; — are all supereminently good. This last 
is an exquisite picture ; but it is, in fact, one of the 
nymphs, transplanted from his famous Chase of 
Diana, with the beauties a little heightened and 
embellished. 

Here you see an old senatorial chair, w T hich is a 
curious sample of antiquity ; and resembles closely 
that low, round-backed chair, with a triangular seat, 
which we often see occupying a chimney-corner in 
England. 

Close to the Corsini Palace, is La Farnesina. 
Here is the famous Galatea of Raphael in fresco; — 
but the more I see of fresco, the more I am inclined 
to believe that to paint in fresco is to throw away 
time and labour. The ceilings are covered with the 
history of Cupid and Psyche, painted from the de- 
signs of Raphael, by his scholars ; — and on one of 



94 ROME MONTE CAYALLO. [DEC. 

the walls is preserved a spirited sketch of a head in 
crayons, by Michael Angelo. 

Sciarra Palace. The collection small bnt good. 
A portrait by Raphael ; — Titian's Family, by him- 
self; — and Modesty and Vanity, by Leonardo da 
Vinci, are the most striking pictures. Da Vinci 
seems to have been desperately enamoured of the 
smile which he has given to Vanity ; — some traces 
of which will be found in almost all the female faces 
that he has painted. I ought not to forget two 
beautiful Magdalens, by Guido, standing opposite to 
each other, at full length, in the innermost chamber. 

28th. Another round of palaces. In the Spada 
there are some fine landscapes, by Salvator: but 
the great curiosity here, is the colossal statue of 
Pompey ; which is said to be the very statue at the 
base of which—" Great Caesar fell;" — though the 
objection to a naked heroic statue, as the represen- 
tative of a Roman senator, is, perhaps, fatal to its 
identity ; — and then, the holding the globe in his 
hand, is not in republican taste; — this action speaks 
the language of a master of the world, and brings 
the statue down to the days of the empire. But this 
does not solve the difficulty ; and if we determine 
that it cannot be Pompey, we shall be again at a 
loss to find an owner for it amongst the emperors. 

Palace of the Pope. The residence of the Pope 
is on Monte Cavallo ; — an immense pile of building ; 
but the apartments of the Pope occupy a very small 
part of it. The gardens are delicious, with shady 
evergreen walks, that must be delightful in sum- 
mer, as affording a complete protection against the 



1817.] ROME MONTE CAVALLO. 95 

sun. The whole circuit of the gardens is at least a 
mile. 

The wing of the palace through which we were 
shown had been fitted up for the King of Rome ; — 
" Sic vos non vobis" — and the furniture does credit 
to the taste and skill of Roman upholsterers. It is 
now set apart for the reception of the Emperor cf 
Austria. The pictures are good. The Annuncia- 
tion, by Guido, in the chapel, is in the sweetest style 
of this sweet painter; — but Guido's Mary, sweet as 
she is, will never do, after the Mary of Raphael ; — 
and then, the eternal blue mantle in which Guido 
wraps his females, reminds one of the favourite 
" sky-blue attitude" of Lady Pentweazle. A Resur- 
rection, by Vandyke, affords ample proof that his 
excellence was not limited to portraits. 

In the square before the palace are the marble 
horses with their attendant figures, which some sup- 
pose to be Castor and Pollux; — while others tell 
you, that the one is a copy from the other, and that 
it is the representation of Alexander and Bucephalus. 
When there is so little to fix a story, it is more 
reasonable to suppose that no story was intended. 

If we may believe the inscriptions, which are as 
old as Constantine, in whose baths these statues were 
found, they are the work of Phidias and Praxiteles. 
They are full of spirit and expression ; — but are not 
the men out of proportion? They appear better 
able to carry the horses, than the horses would be 
to carry them. The Egyptian obelisk, which is 
placed between them, was brought hither, at an 
enormous expense, by Pius VI., from the mausoleum 



96 ROME PALACES. [DEC. 

of Augustus ; and as this was done at a time when 
the poor of Rome were suffering very much from 
distress, the following sentence, taken from Scrip- 
ture, was placarded underneath the obelisk : 

" Di clie queste pietre divengano pani." 

This was surely mal-d-propos ; for Pius VI. could 
not well have adopted a better mode of supplying 
the poor with bread, than by furnishing them with 
employment. 

Rospigliosi Palace. Here is the famous Aurora 
of Guido. There are no traces to confine the horses 
to the carriage. Apollo has the reins in one hand, 
and is laying fast hold of the back of the car with 
the other; as well he may — to prevent the horses 
dragging him from his seat. 

Barberini Palace. This is the residence of the 
Ex-King and Queen of Spain, and the Prince of the 
Peace ; whose influence is as omnipotent here, as in 
the palace of the Escurial. Large collection of 
pictures. But let the description of one suffice ; — 
Joseph and Potiphar's wife. The expression of 
intense passion on the countenance of the female 
is wonderful, and every limb is full of meaning ; 
"there's language in the eye, the cheek, the lip — 
nay, the foot speaks;"; — and such a foot ! She has, 
in her struggles to detain Joseph, planted one of 
her naked feet upon his, and the painter has con- 
trived to exhibit, in the voluptuous disorder of her 
figure, the thrilling sensation communicated by this 
casual contact. 

29th. Amongst the most striking ornaments of 



1S17.] ROME PANTHEON. 97 

Rome, are the fountains; — not only for the archi- 
tectural designs that embellish them, but for the 
prodigality of water which they pour out in all 
parts of the town. The effect of these, in summer, 
must be delightfully refreshing, from the sensations 
of coolness which running water always communi- 
cates. The fountain of Trevi is, perhaps, the most 
magnificent. — It is here that Corinne came, to enjoy 
her own contemplations by moon-light, when she 
was suddenly startled by seeing the reflection of 
Oswald in the water. I doubt whether this could 
have happened ; — it is certainly a glorious scene by 
moon-light — but the basin of water is always in a 
ruffled, troubled state, from the cascades that tumble 
into it ; which prevent it from reflecting any object 
distinctly. 

The design of the fountain of Aequo, Felice is 
admirable. Moses is striking the rock in the desert, 
and the water obeys his wand. The figure of Moses 
is colossal, and very spirited ; — and if ever a colossal 
statue can be rendered pleasing, it is in some such 
situation as this. 

30th. A morning in the Pantheon. — Whoever 
conies to the Pantheon with expectations excited by 
engravings will most assuredly be disappointed ; — 
and yet, it is a noble portico, perhaps too grand for 
the temple to which it leads. This is the most per- 
fect of all the remains of antiquity. Formerly the 
temple of all the Gods, it has been since dedicated 
to all the Saints ; — and the great and invisible Spirit 
— the source of all things— is, perhaps, as little in 
the contemplation of the modern, as of the ancient 
worshippers of the Pantheon. h 



98 ROME PANTHEON. [DEC. 

The open sky-light, communicating at once with 
the glorious firmament, and letting in a portion of 
the great vault of the heavens, produces a sublime 
effect. It is as if it were the eye of the Divinity — 
imparting light and life — and penetrating the most 
secret thoughts of those that repair to his altar. 
The Pantheon has been stripped of every thing that 
could be taken away, to furnish materials for the 
embellishment of St. Peter's; but it has been less 
deformed by what has been subtracted, than by 
the frightful addition of two ugly towers — the work 
of Bernini, under the auspices of Urban VIII. It 
is now made the receptacle of monuments to those 
who have deserved well of their country, and contri- 
buted to sustain the reputation of Italy*. Raphael's 

* Most of these have "been supplied by the chisel, or the 
purse of Canova; — whose enthusiasm for the arts, and whose 
munificent patronage of younger artists, are too well known 
to need any praise from me. If I have presumed to question 
the supremacy of his merit as a sculptor, it is impossible not 
to admire the man. 

There seems to be something in the air of Rome that in- 
spires her artists with a portion of the old Roman feeling. 
Thorwaldson, on being applied to by the King of Prussia, to 
execute some considerable work, objected that there was at 
that time in Rome an artist of great merit, one of his ma- 
jesty's own subjects — Shadoff, since distinguished by his 
Spinning Girl — who he humbly conceived would be a fitter 
object for the King's patronage. 

In the same taste, Camuccini purchased for fifty louis, a 
picture which a former pupil had brought to him as the first 
fruits of his pencil ; Camuccini then bade him take his picture 
to the Pope, knowing that he could not have afforded to pre- 
sent it unpaid for. The consequence of the present was, an 
appointment, and subsequent patronage — in short, the making 
of his pupil's fortune. 



1817.] ROME TARPEIAN ROCK. 99 

bust is here, with the epitaph of Cardinal Bembo, 
of which Pope has availed himself so fully in his 
Epitaph on Kneller : — 

Hie est liic Raphael timuit quo sospite, vinci 
Rerum magna Parens, et moriente mori. 

In my way from the Pantheon, to explore the site 
of the Tarpeian Rock, I passed through the region 
of the Jews; — who are huddled together in one 
quarter of the town, and allowed to reside nowhere 
else. Here, too, they are locked up every night ; 
but — "suffering is the badge of all their tribe." 
In spite of these strict measures of confinement, 
which one would suppose must tend still more to 
isolate the race, I thought the features of these Jews 
did not exhibit so strongly that peculiar and dis- 
tinctive physiognomy which is so striking in Eng- 
land, where they have every facility of crossing the 
breed. 

It is not easy to determine the exact site of the 
Tarpeian Rock ; — or, at least, of that part of it from 
whence criminals were flung ; — and, when you have 
ascertained the spot, as nearly as it can be done, 
you will be more disappointed than by anything 
else in Rome. Where shall we find any traces of 
Seneca's description of it? " Stat moles abscissa in 
profundum, frequentibus exasperata saxis, quce out 
elidant corpus, ant de integro gravius impellant ; 
inhorrent scopulis enascentibus later a, et immensce 
altitudinis aspectus." There is absolutely nothing 
at all of all this — the only precipice that remains is 
one of about thirty feet, from the point of a wall, 

h 2 



100 ROME CLOSE OF THE YEAR. [DEC. 

where you might leap down, on the dung-mixen in 
the yard below, without any fear of broken bones. 

It is not surprising that the great wreck of old 
Rome should have so destroyed the features of the 
Capitoline Hill. Besides, the character of the ground 
below is completely changed ; and the Campus 
Martins, which was at the foot of the Tarpeian 
Rock — into which the mangled bodies fell — is now, 
like the rock itself, covered with the modern town. 

From hence we drove to the Catacombs. These 
dreary and deserted regions were once filled with 
thousands of martyrs. The ecclesiastical writers 
say that 1 70,000 were buried here ; and it is not 
incredible ; for the extent of these caverns is six 
miles. But the Catacombs are now empty; the 
bones have been carried all over Christendom, for 
the edification of the pious ; — and there must have 
been enough, in this mine of martyrs, to furnish 
relics to the whole world. 

31st. On this last day of the year, there was a 
grand ceremony at the church of the Jesuits; — to 
sing out the old year — to offer up thanksgivings for 
all past blessings — and to solicit a renewal of them 
in the year to come. The crowd was immense, and 
the ceremony very impressive. There is a principle 
of equality in Catholic congregations, more con- 
sonant with the spirit of that religion which teaches 
that God is no respecter of persons, than the practice 
which prevails in our own church; — where the 
greatest distinction is made between the accommo- 
dations of the rich and the poor. The former are 
carefully separated from the contamination of the. 



1S17.] ROME CLOSE OF THE YEAR. 101 

latter, into pews ; where everything is provided that 
luxury can suggest, to render the postures of public 
worship as little inconvenient as possible. In the 
Catholic congregations there are no such invidious 
distinctions; — the rich and the poor kneel down to- 
gether, on the same marble floor ; — as children of 
the same Parent — to ask the same blessings, from 
their common Benefactor. All the congregation 
joined in the chant of thanksgiving, and I was deeply 
impressed by the touching solemnity of the ceremony. 
There is always something affecting in a large con- 
course of people participating in the same emotion ; 
the feeling is heightened^ by the contagion of sym- 
pathy, and wound up to enthusiasm by the influence 
of numbers. 

And so much for the year 1817. It has been 
to me, like most of its predecessors — " woven of a 
mingled yarn ;" — much time lest in unavailing hope, 
and more saddened with the gloom of disappoint- 
ment. For the Future : — I leave it with humble 
confidence to the great Disposer of all things, in 
whose hands are the issues of life and death. 



102 [JAN. 



CHAPTER V. 

New Year's Day — The Pope's Chapel — Italian Women — 
Michael Angelo — Modern Capitol — Mamertine Prisons — 
Canova — Thorwaldson — Vatican — Sculpture — Paintings. 

January 1st, 1818. The new year opened with a 
dark and dreary morning — foreboding disaster and 
disappointment; — but, " we defy augury !" 

Went to mass in the private chapel of the Pope, 
in his palace on Monte Cavailo. The most striking 
trait in the appearance of the venerable Pius VII. 
is his black hair, wholly unmixed with grey. There 
is a piety and sincerity in his demeanour that con- 
ciliate respect, in spite of the mummery that sur- 
rounds him. 

But, let the character of the Pope be what it may, 
the part he is called upon to act must identify him 
with Lord Peter ; — of whom I was reminded inces- 
santly ; particularly when the priest, who preached, 
previously to the delivery of his sermon, prostrated 
himself at the Pontiff's feet, to kiss the papal 
slipper*. 

* Eustace endeavours to furnish at once a reason and an 
excuse for this strange ceremonial, "by explaining, that it is 
to the Cross, embroidered on the slipper, that this homage 
is really paid. But we are naturally led to inquire, what 
business the Cross has in such a situation. 

The indefatigable Middleton, who traces up every popish 
custom to some heathen original, contends that this observance 



181S.] ROME THE POPE'S CHAPEL. 103 

It would be difficult to imagine such a scene as 
the Pope's chapel — 

" Never I ween 
In any body's recollection, 
Was snch a party seen 
For genuflection." 

If it were literally represented in a Protestant 
country, it would he regarded as a burlesque ; as 
far beyond nature, as King Arther, with his courtiers 
Doodle and Noodle; — but Noodle and Doodle, with 
all their bowing and head-shaking, would cease to 
be ridiculous in the Pope's chapel. Just two such 
personages were in attendance upon the Pope, during 
the whole of the ceremony, to arrange the different 
changes in the order of his petticoats, and to take 
off and put on his tiara, as the service required ; for 
it would be contrary to all etiquette, that the Pope 
should do any thing for himself; and he cannot 
even blow his nose without the help of one of his 
attendant cardinals. 

The whole of the conclave were present, each sap- 
ported by his train-bearer, or tail-twister : — and this 
office is no sinecure; for on some occasions, the 
train of Lord knows how many ells, is to be spread 

was copied from the example of Caligula ; who, according to 
Seneca, introduced this Persian fashion ; and, to the indigna- 
tion of all Rome, presented his foot to be kissed ; — " ahsohdo et 
gratias agenti porrexit osculandum sinistnim pedem." The excuse 
which Caligula's friends made for him is curious enough; — 
and, though not quite so good as Eustace's, is perhaps not 
very unlike it : — i( Qui excuscmt, negant id insolentiee causa fac- 
tum ; aiunt socadum auratum, imo aureum, margaritis distinctum 
ostendere eum vohiisse" Senec. de Benef. 1. 2. 12. 



104 ROME THE POPE'S CHAPEL. [jAN. 

out like a peacock's tail, and,- at others, it is to lie 
twisted up as close as a cart-horse's ; in order that 
their Eminences may take the corner under their 
arms, and move about at their pleasure. 

Cardinal * * sat amongst the rest — sleek and sly 
— looking like a wolf in sheep's clothing. He was 
conspicuous in the mummery of his part, and so 
expert in the posture exercise, that he might act as 
Flugelman to the whole corps of cardinals. There 
was something in his demeanour, which, like an 
overacted part, excited observation ; — a lurking devil 
in his eye, that seemed to peep out in spite of him. 

Pomp and mummery, in a civil or military dress, 
are fatiguing and ridiculous ; — but, when associated 
with religion, they become disgusting. What a 
strange idea of the Deity must have first suggested 
this homage of postures and prostrations ! If a 
Chinese had been present, he might well have con- 
cluded that the Pope was the God of this strange 
worship ; — and indeed I doubt whether, on this occa- 
sion, the thoughts of many were elevated nearer to 
heaven, than the popedom. But I repeat, that it is 
impossible not to feel respect for the venerable Pius. 
The man who is in earnest — especially in religion — 
can never be an object of ridicule ; and far be it 
from me to judge another man's servant, or condemn 
the fashion of my neighbour's piety, in whatever 
shape it may dress itself. But, without ridiculing 
pietij, the eccentricities and perversities of human 
nature have ever been fair game ; and T hope we 
may laugh at each other's absurdities, without giving 
offence, and with common benefit to all parties. 



ISIS.] ROME ITALIAN MANNERS. 105 

Consalvi, the Pope's prime minister ; — a shrewd, 
intelligent, well-looking man. — As he passed out of 
chapel, a well-dressed person in the court-yard 
threw himself upon his knees before him, and Con- 
salvi, as if he thought the man had some petition 
to present, advanced towards him, but when he 
found that his only object was to kiss his hand, he 
put him aside ; being, as it is said, very impatient of 
all such public demonstrations of homage. 

In the evening, we went to a party at Torlonia's, 
the banker ; — or as he now is — the Duke of Brac- 
ciano. A suite of rooms was thrown open, in which 
a mob of people wandered about, without object, 
or amusement. Such a scene could afford little 
insight into Italian manners, even if the mob were 
composed exclusively of Italians — but at present, 
two- thirds, at least, of the company at every party, 
are English. Rooms hot ; — Music miserable ; — as 
to music, I have heard nothing tolerable, vocal or 
instrumental, since I left England. 

2nd. It is time to record my impressions of the 
manners, and general appearance of the people ; 
— but I fear I have but little to record. All the 
world knows that the Italians are a polite and 
civil people, and universally courteous and obliging 
to strangers. The education of the men is much 
neglected ; and I believe it would not be difficult 
to find a Roman prince who could neither read 
nor write; nor is it surprising, where there are 
no public objects of ambition to stimulate improve- 
ment, that the mere desire of knowledge should 
be insufficient to counteract the indolence so natural 



108 ROME ITALIAN WOMEN. [jAN. 

to man. The women are in the grandest style of 
beauty. The general character of their figure is 
majestic ; — they move about with the inceding tread 
of Juno. The physiognomy of the Italian woman 
bears the stamp of the most lively sensibility, and 
explains her character at a glance. Voluptuousness 
is written in every feature ; but it is that serious and 
enthusiastic expression of passion — the farthest re- 
moved from frivolity — which promises as much con- 
stancy as ardour; and to which Love is — not the 
capricious trifling gallantry of an hour of idleness — 
but the serious and sole occupation of life. There is 
an expression of energy, and sublimity, which be- 
speaks a firmness of soul, and elevation of purpose, 
equal to all trials ; — but this expression is too often 
mingled with a look of ferocity, that is very repulsive. 
Black hair, and black sparkling eyes, with dark olive 
complexions, are the common characteristics of Italian 
physiognomy, A blonde is a rarity ; — the black 
eye, however, is not always bright and sparkling ; it 
is sometimes set off with the soft melting languish- 
ment peculiar to its rival blue, and this, by removing 
all expression of fierceness, takes away every thing 
that interferes with the bewitching fascination of an 
Italian beauty. Much has been said of the laxity of 
their morals; however this be, there is so much 
attention paid to external decorum, that the RuJ/iano 
is an officer in general use, throughout Italy, to 
arrange preliminaries, which in other places would 
not require any intermediate negociation. It is, I 
believe, from the lying pretensions of these Mercuries, 
who have the impudence to offer themselves as the 



181S.] SISTINE CHAPEL MICHAEL AXGEL0. 107 

bearers of proposals to any woman, of any rank, that- 
erroneous impressions have been received on the 
subject; — as if it were possible to believe that any 
woman, above the condition of absolute want, would 
surrender at discretion to the offers of a stranger. 
Still, however, the very lies of a Ruffiano must have 
some foundation ; and indeed the existence of such 
a degrading profession is a sufficient evidence of a 
lamentable state of society. 

3d. Sat an hour in the Sistine Chapel — before 
Michael Angelo's Last Judgment. The choice of 
the subject shows the nature of his genius, which 
nothing could daunt. The figure of Christ is sub- 
limely conceived. If Forsyth had called this — The 
Apollo of Painting — the expression would have 
perhaps been better applied, than to the St. Michael 
of Guido, which Smollett describes, with some 
truth, as exhibiting " the airs of a French dancing- 
master." The frightful calm of despair is ad- 
mirably expressed in one of the condemned, leaning 
on his elbow — who is so abstracted in mental 
suffering, as to be utterly unconscious of the demons 
who are dragging him down to hell. Smollett, 
whose criticisms are often just, talks of the con- 
fusion of the picture, and calls it " a mere mob 
without keeping, subordination, or repose ;' a — repose 
in the last judgment ! — when the trumpet is sound- 
ing — the graves opening — and the dead awakening ! 
I fear the confusion was in his mind — especially, 
when, to illustrate the effect which the picture 
produced upon him, he confounds two things so 
different — as a number of instruments in a concert 



108 ROME MICHAEL ANGELO. [jAN. 

— and a number of people talking at the same time, 
The keeping of the picture is admirable, and all 
is in subordination to the figure of the Saviour. 
Nothing can be more sublime than the action of 
this figure — delivering the dreadful sentence of 
condemnation — " Depart — ye accursed, into ever- 
lasting fire!" By the way; I am obliged to an 
artist for pointing out to me, what I think would 
not easily be perceived ; — that the Saviour is silting 
down. The picture has been so much injured by 
time and cleaning, that, as the light now falls on it, 
the figure appears to be standing up. Every body 
has noticed the solecism of introducing into this 
picture a personage from the Heathen Mythology ; 
■ — Charon is employed in ferrying over the bodies. 
Michael Angelo probably followed Dante, without 
thinking much about the matter : — 

" Caron, dimonio, con occhi di bragia, 
" Loro accennando, tutte le raccoglie, 
" Batte col remo qualunque s' adagia." 

The skeletons are re-fleshing themselves, which — 
in the representation at least — has something shock- 
ing, if not ridiculous. After all, however, — this 
famous picture is gone ; — it is a ruin ; — and what 
is the ruin of a painting ? The soul of beauty may 
still linger in the remains of architectural ruins, 
amidst broken entablatures, tottering pillars, and 
falling arches ; — but when the colours of a painting 
are faded, — it is lost for ever ; — nothing is left but 
a remnant of canvass, or a few square feet of mortar. 
The Last Judgment is fast approaching to this 



ISIS.] ROME MICHAEL ANGELO. 109 

state ; though it may still remain for some time, 
a school of technical excellencies to the artist, 
who is in pursuit of professional instruction. — If 
there were no other argument for preferring oil 
painting to fresco, surely this single circumstance 
of durability is sufficient to turn the scale ; — and yet 
Michael Angelo said, that oil painting was only fit 
occupation for boys and women. 

It may be sacrilege to say any thing to depreciate 
the merit of Michael Angelo, — but I suspect his 
reputation was obtained by the universality of his 
talents, rather than their separate excellence. He 
was an original genius, and his great merit seems to 
be, that he was the first to introduce a taste for the 
grand, and the sublime. He was, as Sir Joshua 
Reynolds describes him, the exalted father and 
founder of modern art ; but, while he excelled in 
grandeur of style, and truth of design, he was, 
surely, too disdainful of the auxiliary ornaments of 
colouring, which are essential to the perfection of 
the art. If he is to be judged by his works, — can 
he be compared to Raphael in painting, or to John 
of Bologna in sculpture ? His Moses, which is 
considered his chef d'ceuvre, is to me, any thing but 
sublime. I would propose these doubts to the con- 
sideration of those more learned than myself, — though 
with the fear of Quintilian's sentence before my 
eyes : — " Modeste tamen, et circumspect 'o jiidicio, de 
tantis viris pronunciandum est, ne, quod plerisque 
accidit, damnent quae non intelligunt" 

Notwithstanding the unbounded and almost ex- 
trayagant praises which Sir Joshua layishes in his 



110 ROME THE CAPITOL. [JAN. 

discourses, on the grand, chaste, severe style of Mi- 
chael Angelo ; it is remarkable that the doctrines he 
has inculcated by his pen are not supported by his 
pencil. It may therefore, perhaps, be doubted, 
whether the doctrines he laid down, were not 
adopted from authority , rather than the real dictates 
of his own understanding' ; — for the understanding 
may become the slave of authority, almost without 
knowing it ; — and the proof of it is, that "his own 
taste and discernment led him to depart from them 
in practice, and to indulge in all that witchery 
of colours, and exquisite management of chiaro- 
scuro, which constitute so great a part of the charm 
of his pictures. 

In returning through the Pauline Chapel, I was 
shocked to see a picture to commemorate — what 
the Catholics ought of all others to wish forgot ten- 
the horrible massacre of St. Bartholomew. 

4th. Lounged through the Capitol ; — the work 
of Michael Angelo, on the site of the ancient Ca- 
pitol. It is opened to the public, as well as the 
Vatican, on Sundays and Thursdays. It contains 
an almost inexhaustible mine of antique curiosities. 
There is a very full and complete collection of im- 
perial busts, which would furnish an amusing study 
to a physiognomist. The histories of their lives 
may be read in many of their faces, particularly in 
those of Nero, Caligula, Caracalla, and Maximin; 
Germanicus, Vespasian, and Titus. Nature has 
written these characters too plainly to be mistaken. 
There are some exceptions. In Julius Caesar, in- 
stead of the open generous expression, which the 



1818.] ROME MODERN CAPITOL. Ill 

magnanimity and clemency of his character would 
lead you to expect; you find a narrow contraction 
of muscles, that would suit the features of a miser ; 
and in Heliogabalus, the swinish temperament, 
which is generally very strongly marked, does not 
appear. 

It will require repeated visits, to examine minutely 
all the treasures of the Capitol. Perhaps there is 
nothing more curious or interesting than the maps 
of old Rome, engraved on stone, which served as 
the ancient pavement of the Temple of Remus. 
There is one fragment still extant, which is marked 
in these maps, just as it now stands — the grand en- 
trance to the Portico of Octavia, now called la 
Peschiera. The front columns, which are Corin- 
thian, and of beautifully white marble, with their 
entablature and inscription, are entire; — but the 
filth of a Roman fish-market makes it almost inac- 
cessible. Amongst the statues in the Capitol, I 
was most struck with a Cupid with his Bow — The 
Hecuba — Cupid and Psyche — a head of Alexander 
— a bust of Marcus Aurelius when a boy — the 
famous Dying Gladiator — and last, though it should 
have been placed first and foremost in beauty — the 
beautiful Antinous — who is always hanging down 
his head as if he felt ashamed of himself — 

" Sed frons laeta parum et dejecto lumina vultu." 

This is a charming statue, and considered merely 
as an exhibition of the beauty of the male figure, 
superior perhaps to the Apollo itself. 

The Gladiator is another instance of M. Ansrelo's 



112 ROME MODERN CAPITOL. [jAN. 

great skill in restoring; — he has contributed an 
arm, a foot, the upper lip, and the tip of the nose. 
Antiquaries dispute whether this is the represen- 
tation of a dying warrior, or a dying gladiator ; — a 
question that can only be interesting to antiquaries ; 
— to me it is sufficient that it is a dying Man. 

The Palace of the Conservators forms part of the 
Capitol. Here is the famous bronze wolf, which 
has afforded so much discussion to antiquaries, to 
determine what wolf it is. Those must have better 
eyes than mine who can discover the marks of light- 
ning, which seem to be necessary to identify it with 
Cicero's wolf; but, I think, one may safely say that 
there are the traces of gilding. Two brazen Ducks 
— for the Roman geese, instead of being expanded 
into swans, dwindle to the size of widgeons — are 
also of high antiquity, and appear to be cackling as 
if the Gauls were again within hearing. A bronze 
bust of the elder Brutus exhibits in the most strongly 
written characters, the stern inexorable severity of 
his disposition. Amongst the modern sculpture is 
a bust of Michael Angelo, by himself. If he were 
judged by the laws of physiognomy, it would go hard 
with him ;-— but some allowance must be made for 
the accident of his nose, which, they tell you, was 
flattened by a blow from a rival's mallet. The col- 
lection of pictures has not much to boast of. There 
is a small picture by Salvator of a Sorceress, in his 
wildest and most romantic style. 

Michael Angelo has given us, too, a picture of 
himself, which does not convey a more favourable 
idea of his countenance, than is afforded by the 
bust. 



1818.] CARDINAL FESCH'S PICTURES. 113 

5th. An invitation from Prince Kaunitz ; — the 
Austrian Ambassador. Our valet de place tells us 
that we owe this to him; he says that when an 
ambassador gives a fete, his servants distribute 
tickets to all the valets de place who are in employ- 
ment, as the readiest way of getting at the strangers 
who may happen to be at Rome ; — and the English 
in Rome are invited to every thing. 

7th. Went to Cardinal Fesch's, who has the best 
and most extensive collection of pictures in Rome. 
His chaplain acted as Cicerone. The whole house 
was thrown open. Madame, Napoleon's mother, 
inhabits one floor. In the cardinal's bed-room is a 
splendid bust of Napoleon in porcelain, crowned with 
a golden chaplet of laurel. Here, too, is the cream 
of the collection. A Magdalen, by Vandyke, is par- 
ticularly striking. The Magdalen is generally a 
voluptuous woman, whose " loose hair and lifted 
eye" express just enough of grief to make her beau- 
ties more interesting ; — but in this of Vandyke, there 
is the most affecting contrition, and the eyes are 
red with weeping. 

St. Peter in the high-priest's kitchen, by Hun- 
thorst, or, as the Italians call him, from an inability 
to grapple with such a cacophonous name, Gerardo 
delta Notte, is a splendid specimen of the skill of 
the Dutch school in the management of light and 
shadow. The flaring light of the torches has all the 
effect of reality. The whole collection amounts to 
1300 pictures — far too many for a single morning. 
It is rich in the works of Rubens; and if Rubens' 
powers of conception, and skill in execution, had 

i 



114 ROME MARMERTINE PRISONS. [JAN* 

been combined with taste, he would have deserved 
one of the highest pedestals in the temple of paint- 
ing; — but he cannot get out of Holland; all his 
figures, particularly the females, savour strongly of 
a Dutch kitchen. 

Here is a superb assortment of Dutch pieces ; — 
and if painting consisted alone of high finishing and 
exactness of execution, the Dutch would deserve to 
be exalted above all their rivals ; — but painting is as 
much an art of the mind, as of the hand, and the 
poetical qualifications are of quite as much import- 
ance as the mechanical. There is just enough of 
Guido and Carlo Dolci. The pictures of the first 
have been termed the honey, and those of the last 
may perhaps be called the treacle of painting. — Too 
much saccharine is always cloying. 

8th. Descended into the Mamertine prisons ; 
which consist at present of two small dungeons. 
This prison was built by Ancus Martins ; — " Car- 
eer ad terror em increscentis andacice, media urbe, 
imminens foro, cedijicatur" The subterraneous 
part was added by Servius Tullius ; and thence 
called Tullianum. It was here, in these condemned 
cells, that we learn from Sallust, the Catiline con- 
spirators were confined and executed. 

Nothing can show the difference between the 
ancient and modern systems of government more 
strongly, than the limited size of this prison, com- 
pared with the innumerable jails that now abound 
in every quarter of Europe ; — and yet this was the 
only prison in old Rome : 

■ " Sub regibus atque tribmris 

Viderunt imo contentam carcere Romam." 



1818.] ROME MAMERTINE PRISONS. 115 

A habeas corpus bill becomes, indeed, an object 
of importance, when the prisons of a kingdom con- 
tain accommodations for thousands of its inhabitants. 
St. Peter and St. Paul were confined in the same 
dungeon where Lentulus had been before them ; at 
least, so your guide will tell you — and how can you 
refuse to believe him, when he shows you the 
remains of two miracles to confirm his testimony ? 
St. Peter, it seems, knocked his head against the 
wall, and instead of the usual consequence — bruising 
his head — he indented the wall; and in the solid 
rock you now see a tolerable impression of his fea- 
tures. Again — during his confinement, many con- 
verts came to be baptized, and Peter, being in want 
of water, caused a fountain to spring up in the 
centre of the dungeon — which still remains. 

In the evening we went to the Italian comedy, 
which was so tiresome that we could not endure 
more than one scene. We drove afterwards to the 
opera. The theatre large and handsome ; — six tiers 
of boxes. The seats in the pit are numbered, and 
divided off separately with elbows; — so that you 
may take any one of them in the morning, and 
secure it for the whole evening. Some plan of this 
kind would surely be a great improvement in our 
own theatres. The dancing was bad, and the sing- 
ing worse. A set of burlesque dancers amused us 
afterwards, by aping the 'pirouettes of the others. 
The dancing of the stage gives but too much foun- 
dation for such caricatures. It is daily becoming 
less elegant, as the difficult is substituted for the 
graceful. What can be more disgusting than to see 

i 2 



116 ROME CANOVA. [JAN. 

the human figure twirling round with the legs at 
right angles ? In such an attitude, " Man delights 
not me nor woman neither." All postures, to be 
graceful, should be easy and natural, and what can 
be more unnatural than this ? 

9th. Went for the third time to Canova's Studio; 
who has, perhaps, attained a reputation beyond his 
merits. There is much grace in his works, but the 
effect is too often spoiled by an affected prettiness, 
or a theatrical display. There is a finical fashion- 
able air about his female figures ; and his men are 
all attitudinarians. He is too fond of borrowing 
from the ancients. This is to be lamented, for it 
does not seem to be necessary for him to borrow ; 
and his best works perhaps are those in which he 
has borrowed least ; as the Hercules and Lichas, 
DcEdalus and Icarus, which he finished at 18, the 
Cupid and Psyche, and the Venus and Adonis. 

But you can too often trace every limb and fea- 
ture to its corresponding prototype in the antique. 
This is pitiful. It is no excuse to say that all the 
beautiful attitudes have been forestalled, and that 
repetition is necessary. There certainly is nothing 
new under the sun; but invention is displayed in 
a new arrangement of the same materials ; and the 
human figure may be varied, in its attitudes and 
contours, ad infinitum. 

Chloris awakened is an exquisite performance ; — 
but it is plain that Canova's mind was full of the 
Hermaphrodite, when he modelled it. The intro- 
duction of the Cupid is well imagined, as a sort of 
excuse for the attitude. It is impossible to look at 



1818.] ROME CANOVA. 117 

this recumbent nymph, without admiring the deli- 
cate finishing of the sculptor, but one cannot ap- 
plaud the taste of the design. The expression of 
the whole is scarcely within the bounds of decency ; 
— for it is the expression, and not the nudity of a 
statue, " the disposition, and not the exposition of 
the limbs," upon which this depends ; and it is a 
prostitution of sculpture to make it subservient to 
the gratification of voluptuousness. 

This criticism may however perhaps savour of 
squeamishness ; for while we were admiring the 
exquisite finishing of Canova's chisel, a young Italian 
lady with a party joined us, who was thrown into an 
ecstacy of admiration by the charms of Chloris's 
figure ; and she patted the jutting beauties with 
delight, exclaiming — while she looked round to us 
for confirmation of her opinion — Bella cosa ! Bella 
cosa ! O che bella cosa ! 

It is curious to see the progress of a statue, from 
the rough block of marble, to the last ad unguem 
finish ; which is all that is done by the master hand. 
The previous labour is merely mechanical, and may 
be done by a common workman from the model of 
the sculptor. 

The Venus and Adonis is full of simplicity, grace, 
and tenderness. 

The Cupid and Psyche is a charming composi- 
tion, but Psyche's hair looks as if it had been 
dressed by a French friseur. 

There is much to admire in the group of The 
Graces ; — but there is also much of that finical 
prettiness of which I complain. They are three 



118 ROMS THORWALDSON. [jAN. 

pretty simpletons — with the niminy-piminy airs of 
a fashionable boarding school ; — there is silliness 
without simplicity ; — and no two qualities can be 
more opposite. 

Again — there is a trickery and quackery in the 
finishing of Canova's statues, which is below the 
dignity of a sculptor. The marble is not left in its 
natural state — but it must be stained and polished 
to aid the effect. The other sculptors laugh at this, 
and well they may ; — for these adventitious graces 
soon fade away, and are beside the purpose of 
sculpture, whose end was, and is, to represent form 
alone. 

10th. With the most lively recollection of Ca- 
nova, I went this morning to examine the Studio of 
Thorwaldson, a Danish sculptor ; — whose works are 
much more to my fancy. There is a freshness and 
originality in his designs, guided by the purest taste. 
What can be more elegant and beautiful than his 
Basso-Relievo of Night? His Venus victrix ap- 
proaches nearer than any modern statue to the Venus 
de Medicis. There is a Shepherd too, which is a 
delightful specimen of simplicity and nature ; — and 
the charm of these statues is, that while they emu- 
late, they have not borrowed any thing from the 
works of the ancients. 

A bust of Lord Byron — a good likeness. 

11th. Removed from the Via degli otto Cantoni 
to the Piazza Mignanelli. The fatigue of mounting 
104 steps after a morning's excursion was intole- 
rable ; — to say nothing of the fish-stalls, and the 
other noises of the Corso ; amongst which, I was not 



1818.] ROME THE VATICAN. 119 

a little surprised by a daily morning serenade from 
the odious squeaking bag-pipe. Who could have 
expected to meet this instrument so far from Scot- 
land ? — and yet it is indigenous in this land of 
music, that is, in the more southern part of it — in 
Calabria. 

Walked on the Pincian Hill ; where the French 
constructed an excellent promenade. Here all tire 
beauty and fashion of Rome resort, when the 
weather is fine, to parade, either in their equipages, 
or on foot, and discuss the gossip and tittle-tattle of 
the town. 

The day was beautiful, and the elastic purity of 
the air has given me an agreeable foretaste of the 
charms of an Italian spring. Pauline, the Princess 
Borghese, was on the walk, with a bevy of admirers ; 
— as smart and pretty a little bantam figure as can 
be imagined. She bears a strong resemblance to 
her brother Napoleon ; and her genius seems also to 
partake of the same character, and to scorn the 
restrictions of ordinary rules. 

The symmetry of her figure is very striking, and 
she once sat, if that be the phrase, to Canova ; who 
modelled her statue as a Venus victrix lying on a 
couch. This statue is now at the Borghese palace, 
but it is kept under lock and key, and cannot be 
seen without a special order from Pauline herself. 

12th. Sudden change in the weather. — Exces- 
sive cold. — Thermometer in the shade at 29. — 
Passed the morning in the Vatican, of which I have 
as yet said nothing, for the subject is almost inex- 
haustible. The extent of this vast palace may be 



120 GALLERIES OF RAPHAEL. [jAN. 

collected from the number of rooms contained in it, 
which are said to amount to eleven thousand. 

The library is one of the largest in the world ; but 
a stranger has no time to examine its treasures. 
Amongst the curiosities they show is the famous 
treatise on the seven sacraments, in the hand-writing 
of Henry VIII., which that orthodox prince sent to 
the Pope, with this distich ; — 

Anglorum Rex Henricus, Leo Decime, mitt it 
Hoc opus, et fidei testem et amicitiae. 

Here also you see many curious relics of Roman 
furniture, with a sample of their household gods, 
which are the queerest little things in the world ; 
and if iEneas's were not on a larger scale, he might 
have carried away a hundred of them — in his 
pocket. 

The galleries of Raphael are so called from the 
famous fresco ceilings, which were painted by him 
and his scholars. The whole history of the Bible is 
depicted on the ceilings of these galleries, beginning 
with the creation of the world. Such a subject must 
fail in any hands — for what pencil can delineate the 
great Spirit ? Raphael has done as much as painter 
could do, but it is impossible for a finite mind to 
imagine infinity, or give a suitable form to that 
Being who has neither beginning nor end. It is 
Montaigne, I believe, who says that if every animal 
were to draw a picture of the Divinity, each would 
clothe him in its own figure ; and a negro painter 
would, I presume, certainly give him a black com- 
plexion. Such personifications and representations 
would at once appear to us in the highest degree 



1818.] CHAMBERS OF RAPHAEL. 121 

ridiculous ; but perhaps it is only one degree less so, 
to see him under the figure of an old man, with a 
long beard, as Raphael has done it, with all his 
limbs at work, separating the elements with bodily 
energy. Eustace finds fault with the figure, and 
points out the inferiority of this corporeal exertion, 
to the sublime description of Moses. No one will 
deny that the description of the Almighty fiat ; 
— "Let there be light, and there was light" — 
conveys a more sublime idea to the mind, than the 
picture of the painter ; — but this is not the painter's 
fault ; he cannot speak to the mind by the alphabet. 
His language is in his brush, and he must represent, 
and not describe ; and I know not how he could 
represent the action of the creation otherwise than 
by making the Creator corporeally at work. It 
would not do to place him in tranquil majesty, with 
a scroll appended to his mouth, as we see in some 
old pictures, inscribed with yevecrdu) (f)u)Q, icat eyevero 
— " Let there be light, and light was." The only 
fault then is the choice of the subject ; and for this 
Raphael is not answerable. He was ordered to re- 
present the whole scripture history, and the creation 
was too important a part to be omitted. But let 
future painters profit by Raphael's failure — and let 
no one hereafter venture to personify that great first 
Cause, which " passeth all understanding." 

The Chambers of Raphael are those which were 
painted by him in fresco; but these works are 
sharing the fate of all other frescos ; it is grievous 
to witness the progress of decay — for the School of 
Athens deserves to be immortal. 



122 Raphael's transfiguration. [jan. 

There is now a small collection of oil paintings in 
the Vatican, composed of those which have been 
brought back from France : but which have not 
been restored to the places from whence they were 
taken. Amongst these are the St. Jerome of Dome- 
nichino, and the famous Transfiguration of Raphael. 
Of this picture so much has been said, that it is 
almost impossible to say more. 

But I suspect this is a memorable instance of the 
disposition of mankind to follow the leader, and 
echo the praise which they do not understand. 
Painters have expressed more admiration than they 
felt, and the multitude have followed them without 
feeling any admiration at all. 

The want of unity in the action is a fault that 
must strike every body, and Smollett is for getting 
rid of this by cutting the painting asunder, and thus 
making two pictures of it. 

The composition of the picture — by which I sup- 
pose is meant the conception of the subject and the 
arrangement of the figures — is pointed out by artists 
as its chief merit ; — but this is an excellence rather 
to be felt by artists than common observers. It is 
the general effect alone that strikes the latter ; and 
nothing can well be more disgusting than the figure 
of the possessed ; — who is, however, rather than the 
Saviour, the prominent figure of the piece. 

The colouring of the upper part of the picture, 
particularly in the countenance of the Saviour, is 
very defective ; the head of Jesus has here none of 
that peculiar expression of benevolence, and more 
than human virtue, which are to be found in other 
pictures of him. 



1S1S.1 ROME THE VATICAN. 123 

The figure however is beautifully managed — 
Conveying the impression of that supernatural light- 
ness which we associate with the idea of a " glorified 
body ;" — but it is impossible to extend this admira- 
tion to the opera-dancing attitudes of Moses and 
Elias. 

13th. Saw Camuccini's paintings — a living 
artist. The death of Virginia, the labour of fifteen 
years, painted for Lord Bristol, is a splendid picture. 
The modern artists of Italy, however, though in 
general excellent draftsmen, delight too much in 
glaring colours, and strong contrasts of light and 
shadow ; and their style of painting seems better 
calculated for the tea-board than the canvass. 

Went in the evening with a large party, amongst, 
whom was Thorwaldsoii, to see the Vatican by 
torch-light. This is absolutely necessary, if you 
wish to appreciate justly the merit of the statues. 
Many of them were found in baths, where light was 
not admitted. They were created therefore for 
torch-light as their proper element ; and the variety 
of light and shade which is thus produced, heightens 
the effect prodigiously. There is something of the 
same kind of difference between the statues by day 
and by torch-light, as between a rehearsal in the 
morning and the lighted theatre in the evening. 

I have endeavoured in vain to admire the Apollo 
as much as I did the Venus ; — and yet, if it were 
the perfection of the male figure, one ought to 
admire it more : for sculptors agree that the male 
figure is the most beautiful subject for their art. 
But perhaps it is impossible to divest oneself entirely 



124 ROME THE VATICAN. [jAN. 

of all sexual associations; — and this may be the 
secret charm of the Venus. — The ladies, I believe, 
prefer the Apollo. By the way, I am surprised at 
the squeamishness which has induced the ruling 
powers of Florence and Rome to deface the works 
of antiquity by the addition of a tin fig-leaf, which 
is fastened by a wire to all the male statues. One 
would imagine the Society for the Suppression of 
Vice had an affiliated establishment in Italy. 
Nothing can be more ridiculously prudish. That 
imagination must be depraved past all hope, that 
can find any prurient gratification in the cold chaste 
nakedness of an ancient marble. It is the fig-leaf 
alone that suggests any idea of indecency, and the 
effect of it is to spoil the statue. I was complaining 
loudly of this barbarous addition, when an Italian 
lady of the party assented to my criticism, and 
whispered in my ear — that I must come again in the 
Autumn. This taste has however become so fixed, 
that Canova now cuts a fig-leaf out of the original 
block, and it thus becomes an integral part of the 
statue. 

It is pity that Can ova's works are placed in the 
Vatican. The Perseus might have attracted admi- 
ration while the Apollo was at Paris — but Apollo is 
come back ; — and who could ever tolerate a copy by 
the side of the original ? 

His Boxers have more spirit and originality ; — 
but is not Damoxenus's posture wrong ? Ought he 
not to have his left leg foremost ? As he stands, his 
lunge is already made, whereas he is only preparing 
to lunge ; but I am confusing the terms of fencing 



18IS.] ROME THE VATICAN. 125 

with those of boxing — and I leave this question to 
the decision of the fancy. 

14th. The more I see of the antique statues, the 
more I am struck with the nature and simplicity 
which constitute their great charm. I have cited 
many instances, and it would be easy to add more ; 
— for example, Posidippus and Menander sit in their 
arm-chairs, as they might be supposed to have done 
in their own studies, without losing an atom of force 
or expression by this repose. Ease is the consum- 
mation of art — "the last refinement of labour" — 
7roX\r)Q 7TELpag to reXevraLOV tTTiyevvr]p.OL. 

Canova, on the contrary, seems to have studied 
too much in the school of Michael Angelo. His 
muscles are all in action. His figures are struck 
out, as if they were conscious of the presence of 
spectators. There is always something in their 
attitude and expression, which there would not be 
if it were not for this consciousness; — just as it 
happens to second-rate actors, who are unable to 
preserve the simplicity of nature on the stage, but 
do every thing as if they were aware that an 
assembly of spectators were looking at them. The 
statue of Phocion, one of the greatest, because one 
of the best men of antiquity, is a charming instance 
of that quiet modesty and simplicity of attitude, so 
appropriate to his character. 

The head of Jupiter, and the noble statue of 
jNTerva, in the round saloon, struck me much. Jove's 
head looks as if its nod might make Olympus 
tremble. Sublime divine majesty beams in every 
feature. By the way, it is impossible not to be 



126 ROME THE VATICAN. [JAN. 

struck with the strong likeness between the counte- 
nance of the mild Jupiter — the Jupiter Optimus 
Maximus of the Romans — and that of Christ, as it 
is represented by the great majority of Italian paint- 
ers; whose pictures are so like one another that 
they seem to have been copied from some common 
original. It was, perhaps, this beau ideal of the 
Greeks which furnished them with the idea of their 
Christ ; — and indeed, it would not be easy for the 
imagination of any painter to put together a set of 
features better adapted to the subject. 

While Jupiter looks the king of the gods, Nerva, 
with a laurel chaplet on his brow, realizes all one's 
ideas of what the emperor of men ought to be. If 
the statue of Nerva were not so admirable that it 
would amount to high treason to remove it, this 
would clearly be the place for the Apollo. He is 
very ill-placed where he is, cooped up as it were in 
a pen. For as the size is above the standard of life, 
it should be seen from a distance ; — but this is 
impossible in the solitary cell where he is now 
confined. 

The group of the Laocoon has no charms for me ; 
— and I am not at all more disposed to admire it, 
because Pliny tells us that it was cut out of a single 
piece of marble. This may render it a greater 
curiosity — but nothing more. Laocoon 5 s sons, too, 
are not boys, but little men ; and there is something 
unhappy in the materials of which the group is 
composed, which have all the appearance of painted 
wood. Yet we collect from Pliny that this was 



ISIS.] ROME THE VATICAN. 127 

considered as superior to any work of art, in sculp- 
ture or painting* 

As we find that these sculptors lived as early as 
the year of Rome 320, it is probable that Virgil 
took his description from this group ; and indeed 
he has hit off the expression of the statue exactly, 
in his comparison of the cries of Laocoon to the 
bellowing of a bull — 

Clamores simul horrendos ad sidera tollit : 
Quales mugitus, fugit quum saucius aram 
Taurus — 

The ancients were as perfect in their representa- 
tion of animals as of men ; and there are the most 
delightful specimens of this kind in the chambers of 
animals. But it would be endless, and indeed 
hopeless, to attempt a description of the contents of 
the Vatican. Sculpture and painting, strictly 
speaking, do not perhaps admit of description. 
The ideas of beauty received by one sense can 
hardly be transmitted by another. A man may 
give the exact proportions of the Venus de Medicis, 
with the projections of the nose and chin; — but all 
this, which is literally description, can never impart 
a single idea of the grace and dignity diffused over 
that divine statue — and if he mention that grace, he 
describes his own sensations rather than the figure. 
He who could, by his description, place before the 

* Sicut in Laocoonie, qui est in Titi imperatoris domo, opus, 
omnibus et picturce et statuaries artis, anteferendum ; ex uno 
lapide, eum et liheros draconumque mirabiles nexus, de consilii 
sententia, fecere summi artifices Agesander, et Pohjdorus, et 
Athenodorus Rhodii, 



128 ROME THE VATICAN. [JAN. 

eyes of his reader the effect produced by the Venus; 
* — who could convey by words, the manly, resigned, 
patient suffering' of the dying Gladiator, conscious 
that he is breathing his last; — or that melancholy 
and terrible gloom which attended the destruction 
of all things, as exhibited in the Deluge of Poussin 
— with the heart-rending despair of the Husband 
and Father, who sees his wife perishing, and his 
child exposed to inevitable death ; — who could show 
him the glowing tints of sunset, or the moonbeams 
glistening on the scarcely-rippling ocean, as created 
by the pencil of Vernet ; — the man, I say, who 
could excite sensations similar to those which have 
been produced by these masters of the sublime and 
the beautiful, would cease to describe ; — he would 
be their equal in a different line; — he would be 
himself — a poet. 



1818.] 129 



CHAPTER VI. 

Sacred Staircase — Robbers — Blessing of Horses — Festival in 
St. Peter's — Catholic Ceremonials — Carnival — Improvvisa- 
trice — Baths of Titus — Coliseum — Masked Ball — End of 
the Carnival — JEgri Somnia. 

Jan. 15th. It is curious to observe how Pagan 
and Christian Rome are every where blended and 
incorporated; and how adroitly the papal capital 
has invested itself with the pomp of the Gentile 
city. Besides the Pantheon, once dedicated to 
All Saints, and since called S. Maria ad Martyr es, 
the Curia of Pompey has been converted into the 
church of S. Andrea della Valle ; the Temple of 
I sis has been dedicated to S. Mar cello; and the 
splendid columns of Trajan and Marcus Aurelius 
now support the statues of St. Peter and St. Paul. 

I looked on, this morning, at a curious religious 
exercise. Adjoining the church of S. Giovanni 
Laterano, is a chapel, to which you ascend by the 
sacred staircase, which is said to have been brought 
from Pilate's house in Jerusalem, and is believed to 
be the very staircase which Christ ascended when 
he was carried to judgment. It would be considered 
sacrilegious to mount this staircase by any other 
than a genuflecting progression ; and this has been 
thought so meritorioas an act, that there was some 
danger of the marble steps being worn away by the 
knees of the pious ; so that now, an external cover- 
ing of wood has been added, which may be renewed 

K 



130 ROME THE SACRED STAIRCASE. [jAN. 

as occasion requires. The ascent is no easy task, 
as I can vouch from the experience of three or four 
steps, which I achieved myself. There is, of course, 
another way down ; for it would amount to an act 
of martyrdom to descend in the same manner. 

16th. I was arrested in my way through the 
Campo Vaccino this morning by an extraordinary 
sight. There was a large herd of about a hundred 
pigs, and I arrived just as three men were com- 
mencing the work of death. Each had a stiletto 
in his hand, and they despatched the whole herd in 
a few minutes. 

The stab was made near the left leg, and seemed 
to go directly to the heart, for the animal fell with- 
out a groan or a struggle. This appears to be a 
less cruel, and is certainly a more quiet mode than 
our own ; where the peace of a whole parish is 
disturbed by the uproar occasioned by the murder 
of a single pig. 

It is to be hoped that the stiletto may soon be 
confined to this use ; and indeed the practice of 
stabbing is becoming every day more rare. The 
French, by depriving the people of their knives, did 
much to put an end to this horrible custom ; and 
the abridgment that has been made in the indul- 
gence of sanctuaries, to which an assassin used to 
fly, and laugh at the officers of justice, will do more 
towards abolishing it altogether. 

The administration of Cardinal Consalvi is calcu- 
lated to do all that an honest, wise, and liberal- 
minded minister can do, to correct the evils of a 
bad constitution. But in endeavouring to work for 



ISIS.] ROME ROBBERS. 131 

the public good, he is exposed to constant opposi- 
tion from the collision of private interests. 

Last year there was a scoundrel in the post-office, 
who committed wholesale depredations upon the 
letters, and all the world complained of the loss of 
remittances. This fellow was however protected by 
a powerful opposition Cardinal, and it seemed that 
he could only be got rid of from the post-office, by 
the promise of an appointment of equal value in 
some other department. 

Nothing can show in a stronger light the weak- 
ness of the government, than the regular system of 
robbers, established in open defiance of it, who 
push their attacks within eighteen miles of the 
Pope's palace. Scarcely a month has passed since 
a most outrageous attempt was made to seize 
Lucien Buonaparte, at his own villa at Frascati. 
He had the good fortune to make his escape 
through a secret and subterraneous door, but the 
robbers carried off a poor painter to the mountains, 
who was staying in the house, supposing him to be 
Lucien. It was with some difficulty, and after 
three days' detention, that the painter convinced 
them at last, by giving specimens of his art, that 
he was really no prince ; and they were not a little 
mortified at the discovery of their mistake : for 
their custom is to demand an ad valorem ransom, 
and the price of the painter was nothing in com- 
parison with what they would have exacted for the 
Prince of Canino himself. 

All endeavours to put down this barefaced sys- 
tem have failed. The military have been employed, 

k2 



132 



ROME FESTIVAL OF ST. AKTHONY. [jAN. 



but it seems the robbers can afford to pay them 
higher for being quiet, than the government can for 
being active. 

Much is expected from the present governor of 
Rome ; — but what can be done by a single man, 
where the great mass is corrupt? When public 
spirit is extinct, and the people feel no interest in 
the preservation of the government, there is no 
longer any security for the fidelity of agents, or 
the execution of orders. 

17th. Festival of St. Anthony; who interpreted 
literally the injunction of the Scripture — " Go ye 
into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every 
creature;" — and who, according to the legend, like 
another Orpheus, charmed the beasts of the desert 
by his eloquence. On this day there was a general 
blessing of horses. A priest stands at the door of 
the church, and with a long brush, dipped in a 
consecrated vessel, scatters the holy water upon 
the horses as they are driven up to receive the 
benediction. All the equipages of the nobility, 
splendidly caparisoned with ribbons, were assem- 
bled to participate in the ceremony. The best 
defence of such a ceremony will be found in the 
benefit likely to result to the objects of it, from its 
teaching that comprehensive charity, which includes 
even the inferior creatures in the great circle of 
Christian benevolence. There is something that 
takes a delightful hold on the imagination, in the 
simple creed of the untutored Indian, 

" Who thinks, admitted to that equal sky, 
His faithful dog shall bear him company." 



1818.] ROMAN ARTS. 133 

Without attempting, however, to raise the myste- 
rious veil which is drawn over the lot of the lower 
animals in the scale of creation, it is difficult not to 
sympathize with any doctrines that inculcate kind 
and humane feelings towards them. 

The indolence of the Romans is a common theme 
of remark, but I doubt whether it be well founded. 
Something must be allowed them on the score of 
their climate, the natural effect of which is to pro- 
duce listlessness and languor. Still more should be 
added on account of their government, in the spirit 
of which there is no encouragement given to indi- 
vidual industry, by the diffusion of equal rights. 
The barrenness of the Campagna has been attri- 
buted to this national indolence, which will not be 
at the pains of cultivating it. But I believe it 
would be more correct to say — not that the Cam- 
pagna is barren, because it is not cultivated — but, 
that it is not cultivated, because it is barren. The 
Roman soldiers, before the time of Hannibal, in 
comparing their own country with that of the 
Capuans, argued thus; — "An cequum esse dedi- 
titios suos ilia fertilitate atque amoenitate perfrui ; 
se, militando fessos in pestilenti atque ari da circa 
urbem solo luctari?" Liv. lib. 7. c. 38. 

'In many particulars the modern Romans evince 
no want of ingenuity or industry. In the delicate 
and laborious workmanship of Mosaic ; in en- 
graving in all its branches; and in the elegant 
manufacture of cameos out of oriental shell, they 
are very industrious. The demand for articles of 
this kind is constant, and as foreigners are the 



134 ROME FESTIVAL IN ST. PETER'S. [JAN. 

principal customers, I take it for granted that the 
profits are considerable, and that they flow directly 
into the pockets of the manufacturer. This is all 
that is necessary to promote industry ; namely, that 
there should be a demand for the productions of a 
man's labour, and that he shall have a security for 
the enjoyment of the fruits of his work. 

The Italians are admirable drivers, and go far 
beyond our whip-club. I have seen eight horses in 
hand trot up the Corso; and have heard of twelve, 
arranged in three rows of four a-breast. Their rule 
of the road is directly the reverse of ours ; they take 
the right hand in meeting, and the left in passing; — 
and if two persons are in an open carriage, or on a 
coach-box together, he who drives will, in defiance 
of the eternal fitness of things, sit on the near side. 

18th. A grand fete in St. Peter's. The Pope 
was borne into the church on the shoulders of men, 
seated in his chair of state, making continually, as 
he passed along, the sign of the cross in the air 
with the two fore-fingers of his right hand. Two 
pole-bearers, with splendid fans of ostrich feathers 
fixed on the top of their poles, preceded him, and 
reminded me of the chief mourner of Otaheite. The 
red flowing robes of the cardinals are much more 
splendid and becoming than the sovereign white 
satin of the Pope ; which, bespangled as it is with 
gold, has a dingy and dirty appearance, at a 
distance. The Guard Noble, or Pope's Body 
Guard, the very privates of which are composed 
of the nobility of Rome, mustered in the church 
in full uniform, and kept the ground. They did 



1818.] ROME CATHOLIC CEREMONIALS. 135 

not take off their hats, and the only part they took 
in the worship was to kneel clown at the word of 
command, in adoration of the Host, when the bell 
announced the completion of the miracle of tran- 
substantiation*. 

A strange attendance this, for the successor of 
St. Peter — the apostle of the Prince of Peace ! — 
but I doubt whether the apostles, if they could 
return to this world, would be able to recognise 
their own religion, swelled out and swaddled as it 
is in the Papal Pontificals. 

It is common to hear of the attraction and fasci- 
nation of the Catholic ceremonials ; — for my part, 
I think mass a more tiresome business than a 
Quakers' meeting. 

There is something very unsocial in the whole 
transaction. The priest turns his back to the people, 
and mumbles the prayers to himself. There seems 
to be no community of worship, except in the general 
genuflection at the elevation of the Host. The 
people seem to have no functions to perform, but to 
look on at a spectacle, which is to me the most 
fatiguing office in the world. 

The vespers, of which music forms the principal 
part, are more attractive ; though one cannot listen 
to the chants of these "warbling wethers," without 

* Middleton confesses, that, in this instance at least, he 
cannot find a parallel in any part of the Pagan worship. The 
credulity of the ancients, great as it was, revolted at a doctrine 
like this, which was thought too gross even for Egytian idola- 
try : — Cm Ecquem tarn am en tern esse pittas, qui illud, quovescatur, 
Deinn credat esse ? " Cic. de Nat. Deor. 3. 



136 ROME THE OLD ROMANS. [jAN. 

feelings of indignation at the system which sanctions 
such a school of music ; but perhaps a government 
of celibacy may affect to believe the deprivation of 
virility a loss of small importance. 

19th. Passed away the morning in the Capitol. 
This modern building is not worthy to crown the 
summit of the Capitoli immobile saxum, as the 
Romans in the pride of their national vanity de- 
lighted to call it. But what is now become of their 
eternal empire, with the fables of Inventus, and 
Terminus, which were to them sacred articles of 
faith ?— " The wind hath passed over it and it is 
gone !" — This devoted attachment to their country 
is perhaps the only amiable feature in the national 
character of the Romans. With what spirit it breaks 
out in the invocation of Horace : — 

Alme Sol corru nitido diem qui 
Promis et celas, aliusque et idem 
Nasceris ; possis nihil urbe Roma 

Viscere majus ! 

though in these very lines there is a sufficient indi- 
cation of that jealous hostility towards all other 
nations, with which this love of their own country 
was combined. 

It may be very amusing to read their history, now 
that we are out of the reach of that grasping and 
insatiable ambition, which must have rendered them 
deservedly hateful to their contemporaries. 

But, Heaven be thanked, the bonds of Roman 
dominion are broken ; and it is to be hoped, that any 
future attempt to revive their plans of universal 
conquest may be as unsuccessful as the late imita- 



1818.] ROME PRINCESS PROSSEDI. 137 

tion of them by the French, whose Jacobinical 
watch-word, of " War to the Palace and Peace to 
the Cottage," was closely copied — though more 
insidiously worded — from the favourite maxim of 
the Romans — 

" Parcere subjectis, et debellare superbos." 
This line of their favourite poet contains a complete 
exposition of the spirit of their foreign policy; a 
truly domineering and tyrannical spirit — which 
could not be at rest, while there was any other 
people on the face of the globe that claimed the 
rights of national independence. 

In the square of the Capitol is the famous eques- 
trian statue of Marcus Aurelius. The Horse is very 
spirited, and Michael Angelo's address to it, Cam- 
mina ! is still quoted. 

Went in the evening to the Princess Prossedi's. 
A select ball. — Lucien Buonaparte and his brother 
Louis, with their respective families, were present. 

20th. This morning the Princess's servant called 
for a fee. This is the custom of Italy, and where- 
ever you make a visit, the domestics call the next 
day to levy a tax upon you. 

Called on the Princess Prossedi ; — an amiable 
and interesting woman. She is the eldest daughter 
of Lucien Buonaparte by a former wife ; and it was 
she who refused to be the wife of Ferdinand of 
Spain. This match was proposed to her when she 
was on a visit to the Emperor's court, during the 
disgrace and exile of her father ; but, though she 
was alone, and subjected to the solicitations of the 
whole court, and at last assailed by the menaces of 



138 ROME THE CARNIVAL. [jAN. 

Napoleon himself, she had the firmness and courage 
to adhere to her resolution. Her answer to an 
inquiry, whether she did not feel afraid of the con- 
sequences of irritating her uncle by a refusal, will 
explain her character ; — O que non ! on craint peu 
celui qu'on rtestime pas. 

The Buonaparte family muster strongly at Rome. 
Madame Mere is said to be immensely rich ; Louis 
has bought a large tract on the Palatine Hill ; and 
Lucien has a spacious palace in the Via Condotti. 
Whatever his political sins may have been, his do- 
mestic life is irreproachable. He lives in the bosom 
of his family, all the branches of which assemble in 
the evening at his house, which is open also to 
strangers who have been properly introduced to him. 

His wife must once have been a most beautiful 
woman, and she still retains all that fascination of 
manner, which is the best part of beauty. 

21st. The first day of the Carnival ; — or rather 
the first of the last eight days of the Carnival, which 
are the paroxysm of the fun and the folly of this 
season of rejoicing. But, as eight consecutive days 
of festivities might be too fatiguing, occasional 
resting days intervene, to give time for the spirits to 
rally ; — and then, when the season of indulgence is 
over, Lent and fasting begin. This is wisely con- 
trived, for after an excess of feasting, fasting 
succeeds as a relief, rather than a privation. What- 
ever Lent may be to the many, it is no light matter 
to the strict Catholics. The present Pope, who is 
most exemplary in all religious observances, keeps 
it with the most riff id abstemiousness. 



1818.] ROME THE CARNIVAL. 139 

The usual exhibition has not been given this 
morning in the Piazza del Popolo. It is customary 
that an execution should take place on this day, as 
an edifying prelude to the gaieties of the Carnival, 
but there is no criminal ready for the guillotine. 

22nd. Second day of the Carnival. The Corso 
is the grand scene of foolery. Here, two lines of 
carriages, filled with grotesque figures in masks, 
drive up and down ; while the middle of the street 
is thronged with a multitude of masqueraders. I 
have seen little fun, and no humour — except in a 
few English maskers. All that Corinne says of the 
skill and vivacity of the Italians in supporting cha- 
racters of masquerade, I suspect to be greatly 
exaggerated. 

I doubt whether a May-day in England be not 
quite as amusing as the Carnival. All that the 
people do, is to pelt each other with sugar-plums, 
as they are called, though they are really made of 
lime. When a stoppage takes place amongst the 
carriages, which is frequently the case, those that 
are alongside of one another might be compared to 
two ships in an engagement — such is the fury of the 
fire. One can bear being pelted by the natives, for 
they throw these missiles lightly and playfully — 
but the English pelt with all the vice and violence 
of school-boys, and there was an eye nearly lost in 
the battle of this morning. 

The conclusion of the day's entertainment is the 
horse-race. There is a discharge of cannon as a 
signal for the carriages to quit the Corso. The 
street is soon cleared, and the horses are brought 



140 ROME THE CARNIVAL. [jAN. 

out. It is really surprising to see their eagerness 
and emulation ; indeed they seem to enjoy the 
scene as much as the spectators. To-day, one of 
them, in its impatience to start, broke from its 
keeper, leaped the barrier, and set off alone. Five 
started afterwards, and, for the first two hundred 
yards, they seemed to run against one another with 
thorough good-will ; but being without riders, they 
find out long before they get to the end of the 
Corso, which is a mile long, that their speed is 
entirely optional. Many of them, therefore, take it 
very quietly ; the greatest fool runs fastest, and 
wins the race. 

Every sort of stimulant is applied to supply the 
want of a rider. Little bells are tied about them, 
and a sort of self-acting spur is contrived, by sus- 
pending a barbed weight to a string, which, in its 
vibrations, occasioned by the motion of the horse, 
strikes constantly against his flanks. The people 
encourage them by shouts from all sides ; but the 
most efficacious and the most cruel of the means 
employed, is the application of a squib of gunpowder 
to the poor animal's tail ; or a piece of lighted 
touch-paper to some raw part of his hide. 

In the evening a masked ball ; where I in vain 
endeavoured to find any thing like the well-sup- 
ported characters which we occasionally see at a 
masquerade in England. There were, in fact, no 
characters at all ; nothing but a mob of masks and 
dominos. 

23rd. A day's rest from the Carnival. — Drove 
to the Borghese villa. — The gardens and pleasure- 



1818.] ROME IMPROVVISATRICE. 141 

grounds are on a larger scale, and in a better taste, 
than I have yet seen in Italy. The trees in the 
shrubberies are allowed to grow as nature prompts 
them, without being clipped and cut into all sorts 
of grotesque figures. 

The villa is deserted not only by its owners, but 
by the famous statues — the Household Gods — 
which it once possessed. Casts now occupy the 
pedestals of the original marbles, which were sold 
by the Prince Borghese to Napoleon, and still re- 
main in the gallery of the Louvre. 

We went in the evening to one of the Theatres 
to hear an Improvvisatrice . She was a young and 
pretty girl of seventeen. The subjects had been 
written by the audience on slips of paper, and put 
into an urn, to be drawn out as occasion required. 
She recited three poems. The subject of the first 
was, the Sacrifice of Tphigenia; — the next, the 
Cestus of Venus; — and the last, Sappho presents 
a ivreath of flowers to Phao?i, was rendered more 
difficult by supplying her with the final words of 
each stanza, which she was to fill up with sense 
and rhymes. The final words, which were given 
by the audience, were all to end in ore ; — some 
one suggested sartore — as a puzzling word for the 
conclusion of the last stanza; and if one might 
judge from the laughter and applause of the au- 
dience, for I confess I could not follow her, she 
brought it in with a very ingenious turn. 

In the intervals between the poems, she called 
upon the audience indiscriminately for a word, as 
the subject of a stanza, which she immediately re- 



142 ROME BATHS OF TITUS. [JAN. 

cited, making every line rhyme with the word pro- 
posed. She was seldom at a loss for a moment; 
and when she did hesitate, she got out of her dif- 
ficulties most triumphantly. Drudo was the word 
that seemed to puzzle her most ; at least she made 
an attempt to evade it ; but it was pressed upon her 
by the audience. 

Upon the whole, it was a wonderful perform- 
ance ; for though I could not catch all she said, 
one might judge of the merit of such a performance 
by the effect produced upon the audience. Besides, 
though words may add a great deal, they are not 
absolutely necessary to the expression of sentiment ; 
the language of gestures, and features, and tones, is 
universal, and by the aid of these, it was easy to 
follow the story of Iphigenia perfectly. 

After the subject of a poem was proposed, she 
walked about the stage for about ten minutes, and 
then burst out with all the seeming fervour of in- 
spiration, chanting her stanzas in a recitative tone, 
accompanied by music. 

Her enunciation and action were a little too 
vehement for an English taste, and conveyed an 
idea of vulgarity; but of this it is impossible to 
judge without knowing more of the national standard 
of good-breeding. 

24th. Of the Palace and Baths of Titus, there 
are still many interesting remains. It was in the 
time of Raphael that the group of Laocoon was 
discovered here, and that several subterraneous 
chambers were opened, containing very beautiful 
specimens of painted ceilings, in excellent pre- 



1818.] ROME BATHS OF TITUS. 143 

servation. Raphael is said to have borrowed all 
he could from these paintings, for his own designs 
in the Vatican, and then to have filled up the ruins 
again. This story is in every body's mouth, but 
that Raphael, whose character appears in other 
particulars the essence of candour and ingenuous- 
ness, should have been actuated by such feelings 
of petty professional jealousy, is very improbable. 
If no care was taken to maintain the communication 
with the ruins, time and accident would soon do 
that which is imputed to Raphael. However this 
may be, it is certain that they were not again 
excavated till the year 1776 ; and it is to the French 
that we owe the interesting discoveries which have 
been made since that time. They set about the 
work in good earnest, and they have furnished 
ample materials for forming a judgment of the 
nature and extent of these imperial establishments. 
The colours on the ceilings are, in some instances, 
as fresh as if they had been painted yesterday ; and 
the whole subject of the picture is often very intel- 
ligible ; — as is the case in the amours of Mars and 
Sylvia. There is a painting on the end-wall of one 
of the passages, representing a continuation of the 
passage, which shows that the Romans were not so 
ignorant of linear perspective as it has been sup- 
posed. In another passage, leading to the baths, 
which was excavated by the French, and which, as 
it would seem, had never before been explored since 
the original wreck which buried it in ruins, was 
found this scrawl, which has all the appearance of 
being ancient, and which — as it is under the veil of 
a learned language — I shall venture to transcribe : 



144 ROME THE COLISEUM. [jAN. 

DVODECIM DEOS ET DIANAM ET JOVEM OPTVMVM 

MAXVMVM HABEAT IRATOS QV1S QVIS HIC 

MINXERTT AVI CACARIT. 

The baths seem to have been fitted up with the 
greatest magnificence. There are traces of Mosaic 
pavement; and there was a coating of marble 
carried about ten feet high, probably to prevent the 
painted walls from being injured by trie splashing of 
the water. 

In one of the rooms, the bath itself remains ; — 
it is a circular basin of about twenty-four feet in 
diameter. 

Here too they show what is said to be a part of 
the House of Mecsenas. It is a curious specimen 
of the perfection of Roman brick-work, in complete 
preservation ; the pointing of which is as perfect as 
if it had been just finished by the mason, and I 
doubt whether any modern workmanship, of the 
same materials, would bear a comparison with it. 
The bricks are differently shaped from our own, and 
do not exceed two inches in thickness. 

The third day of the Carnival. — Went to see the 
horses come in, which was a very tame business. 
All the rivalry is in the start. — The reverse of an 
English horse-race. — There the start is nothing, and 
the contest is reserved for the goal. 

25th. Another respite from the Carnival. — 
Drove at midnight to see the Coliseum by moon- 
light ; — but what can I say of the Coliseum ? It 
must be seen ; to describe it I should have thought 
impossible — if I had not read Manfred. To see it 
aright, as the Poet of the North tells us of the fair 



1818.] ROME THE COLISEUM. 145 

Melrose, one must " Go visit it by the pale moon- 
light." The stillness of night — the whispering 
echoes — the moonlight shadows — -and the awful 
grandeur of the impending ruins, form a scene of 
romantic sublimity, such as Byron alone can 
describe as it deserves. His description is the very 
thing itself; — but what cannot he do on such a 
subject, the touch of whose pen, like the wand of 
Moses, can produce waters even from the barren 
rock ! 

A man should go alone to enjoy, in full perfec- 
tion, all the enchantment of this moonlight scene ; 
and if it do not excite in him emotions that he never 
felt before — let him hasten home — eat his supper 
— say his prayers — and thank Heaven that he has 
not one single grain of romance or enthusiasm, in 
his whole composition. 

If he be fond of moralizing — the Papal sentinels, 
that now mount guard here — the Cross, which has 
been set up, in the centre of the amphitheatre, to 
protect these imperial remains from further spolia- 
tion — in the very spot, where the Disciples of that 
despised Cross were most cruelly persecuted — and 
the inscription which it bears — Baciando la S, Croce 
si acquistano duecento giorni di indulgenza — will 
furnish him with ample materials for reflection. 

27th. Fifth day of the Carnival. Tiresome re- 
petition of the same foolery. It may be, however, 
that I find it dull, because I am dull myself, for the 
Italians seem to enjoy it vastly. 

Escaped from the noisy crowd of the Corso, to 
the silent solitude of the Coliseum ; where you can 

i* 



146 ROME THE COLISEUM. [JAN. 

scarcely believe that you are within five minutes' 
walk of such a scene of uproar. Considering the 
depredations which have for so many ages been 
committed upon this pile, it is wonderful that so 
much remains. It is certain that Paul II. built the 
palace of St. Mark — Cardinal Ricario the Chancery, 
— and Paul III. the Farnese palace — with mate- 
rials from this mine. The Barberini palace is also 
said to have been derived from the same stock ; — 
" et quod non fecerunt Barbari, fecere Barberini" 
I believe, however, that this conceit is the only 
authority for the fact ; — and truth has been often 
sacrificed to a conceit. 

At last, to prevent further depredations, it was 
consecrated. The present Pope is doing much to 
prevent dilapidation ; but, like his predecessors, he 
seems to have little reliance on the memory of man- 
kind, for he defaces all his works with an inscrip- 
tion ; though it is conceived in a more modest taste 
than former inscriptions, and instead of Muniji- 
centia — he is content with — Cur a Pii VII. 

Much has been written on the subject of the 
holes which are scattered all over the building ; but 
I think it is plain that they were made to extract 
the metal, used to fasten the stones together. In 
many of these holes, some small fragments of lead 
and iron are still remaining. 

It must have been a noble sight, to behold this 
vast Amphitheatre filled with spectators. The very 
lowest computation allows that it would contain 
eighty thousand. 

There was an awning to protect them from the 



ISIS.] ROME THE COLISEUM. 147 

sun and the rain ; and that capricious tyrant, 
Caligula, is described by Suetonius as venting his 
spleen by ordering this canopy to be withdrawn : 
— " Gladiator io munere, reductis inter dum flagran- 
tissimo Sole veils, emitti quenquam vetabat." 

The order and arrangement of the seats are still 
distinguishable, and nothing can be more admirably 
contrived than the vomitories, for facilitating the 
ingress and egress of all classes to and from their 
respective seats, without disorder or confusion. 
There was probably an upper gallery for the multi- 
tude, of which there are now no remains. 

Between the arches numbered xxxviii and xxxix, 
there is one, which is not only without any number 
at all, but is also deficient in the entablature; 
whence it is concluded, that this was the entrance 
to the passage which led to the palace of Titus, by 
which the Emperor had Ms private approach to the 
amphitheatre. 

Excavation has also discovered the subterraneous 
passage, by which the Emperors had a secret com- 
munication with the palace of the Palatine ; — and 
it was here that Commodus was attacked by the 
conspirators. 

It was probably the sight of the Coliseum, the 
wonder of ancient Rome, as St. Peter's is of the 
modern city, that struck Poggio with the admiration 
he so well describes in his work De Varietate 
Fortunce : — " Prcesenti vero, mirum dictu, nihil 
imminuit, vere major fuit Roma, majoresque sunt 
reliquicB quam rebai\ Jam non orb em ab hoc arbe 
do?nita?n, sed tarn sero domitam, miror" By the 

l2 



148 ROME THE CARNIVAL. [jAN. 

way, Gibbon attributes these words to Petrarch ; 
but if they be his, Poggio has adopted them without 
acknowledgment. 

It is indeed a glorious ruin, and one may sympa- 
thize with the superstitious enthusiasm, that believed 
" Quamdiu stabit Colyseus, stabit et Roma; quando 
cadet Colyseus, cadet Roma ; quando cadet Roma, 
cadet et mundus." 

28th. Sixth day of the Carnival. Sat an hour 
in the Borghese palace, before the charming Sibyl 
of Domenichino, which is one of the very sweetest 
pictures in the world. Afterwards to the Piazza 
Navona, the site of the ancient Circus Agonalis ; 
which, by an easy transition through Agona and 
Nagona, has become Navona. Near here is the 
ancient statue which has been called after the 
Tailor Pasquin, who lived near the place where it 
was discovered ; and who, besides indulging him- 
self in satirical raillery against all the world, has 
had the honour of giving his name to all subse- 
quent effusions of the same kind. The floating 
capital of wit may be estimated by the squibs and 
epigrams which are still occasionally affixed to this 
statue.* 

* A man called Caesar lately married a girl of the name of 
Roma — both common names in Rome. They lived in the 
Piazza Navona, close to Pasqnin's statue, where was found 
next morning the following advice : 

Cave, CcEsar, ne tua Roma 
respublica jiat ! 
The man replied the next day; 

Ccesar imperat ! But 



1S18.] ROME MASKED BALL. 149 

29th. Seventh day of the Carnival. The horses 
started with more animation than ever. The instant 
they were off, one of the booths opposite to us fell 
in with a tremendous crash. There was something 
awfully terrific in the general scream of many 
hundreds of people, who all sunk down in one heap 
of confusion. No lives lost. The extent of the 
mischief was a few broken limbs. What a strange 
thing is luck — as we call it ; but, do we not all too 
often 

u Call God's best providence a lucky hit! " 

I had wished to take my place on this booth, and 
was with difficulty persuaded by my companion to 
prefer the opposite one. 

Masked ball in the evening at the Teatro Ali- 
berti. I am quite amazed at the dulness of this 
sort of entertainment, in a country where the 
people are so distinguished for liveliness and wit 
in their common conversation. You would sup- 
pose, from the animation of feature, and vehemence 
of gesticulation, between two men in the street, 
that they were discussing some question of vital 
interest; but, upon inquiry, you find they have 
been talking of the weather, or some such matter. 
At these balls there is little talking; — perhaps 
some more serious business may be going on ; — 

But his antagonist immediately rejoined; 
Ergo coronabitur. 
Upon the late entry of the Emperor of Austria into Rome, 
the following squib appeared on Pasquin's statue : — 

Gaudium urbis,fletus provinciai^tm, i*isus mundi. 



150 ROME ENGLISH CHURCH. [FEB. 

for this is the great season of intrigue. Men and 
women assume the dresses and the characters of 
each other. The mask enables the lady to speak 
her mind freely ; and whatever her fancy may be, 
if she fail of success, it is not through any back- 
wardness on her part. The mask does away all 
distinctions of rank, as well as of sex, and the 
liberty and equality of the carnival seem to have 
a close affinity with the license of the Saturnalia — 
or High Life below Stairs — of the ancient Romans. 

30th and 31st. English November weather. 
Cold rain. Confined to the house. 

Feb. 1. Passed the morning in the Vatican. 
There is an alabaster urn in the gallery of vases, 
which was found in the Mausoleum of Augustus, 
and is supposed to have contained his ashes. The 
busts of Cato and Portia, if indeed they have been 
rightly so called, are interesting portraits ; — but we 
have been so accustomed to associate Kemble's 
noble physiognomy with our idea of Cato, that it is 
difficult not to feel a little disappointment at the 
first sight of this bust, which has not that strongly- 
marked cast of features which we call Roman. 
The moral expression, however, is that of the severe, 
inflexible integrity, the esse quam videri, which 
Sallust describes in his beautiful contrast between 
Cato and Caesar. 

Attended vespers at St. Peter's, — the favourite 
lounge of the English ladies on Sunday evening. 

In the morning they attend the English church, 
which is now established with an eclat that scan- 
dalizes all orthodox Catholics. The English pre- 



1818.] ROME ENGLISH CHURCH. 151 

sumed so far upon their favour with the Pope, as 
to make an application to Consalvi, to authorize 
the institution of a place of worship, according to 
the rites of the Church of England. The Cardinal's 
answer might have been anticipated : " I cannot 
authorize what would be directly in opposition to 
the principles of our religion, and the laws of the 
state, but the government will not interfere with 
an)' thing you do quietly amongst yourselves, as 
long as it is done with propriety." The English 
church has accordingly been set up, and boasts a 
very numerous congregation. The door is thronged 
with as many carriages as a new fancy chapel in 
London ; but though the Pope and Cardinal Con- 
salvi seem inclined to let the English do any thing, 
the multitude regard this permission as a sin and 
an abomination. 

Our fair countrywomen, not content with cele- 
brating the rites of an heretical church under the 
very nose of the Pope, go in the evening and jostle 
the Catholics out of their own chapel in St. Peter's. 
This attendance might at first have been attributed 
to devotional feelings; but as soon as the music is 
over, the ladies make their courtesy, and leave the 
priests to finish their prayers by themselves, while 
they parade up and down the Cathedral; which 
then becomes the fashionable promenade. 

After vespers, on Sundays, all the equipages in 
Rome are to be found in the Corso, which then 
answers to our own Hyde Park ; and perhaps 
there are few places in the world where so many 
splendid equipages are to be seen as at Rome — in 



152 ROME ENGLISH LADIES. [FEB. 

the number and appearance of the horses, and in 
the rich liveries of the trains of domestics, and 
running foootmen. 

2nd. Holy-day. Grand ceremony of the Pope 
blessing the candles ; — hence, Candlemas-day. 
After the blessing, each Catholic received his 
candle, and there was a procession from the 
church. — The second of February is a gloomy day 
in Rome ; it has a black mark in the calendar, and 
is memorable in the history of national calamities. 
— Ball at Lady N.'s. — It was intended to com- 
mence at nine o'clock, but out of deference to the 
Catholic guests, it was postponed till midnight, 
that no infringement might be committed upon the 
Holy-day. 

The English ladies have metamorphosed Rome 
into a watering-place. — One or other of them is " at 
home" every evening, and there are balls twice 
a week. — The number of English, at present in 
Rome, is estimated at about 2,000, and it is said 
that the influx of wealth occasioned by their re- 
sidence has so increased the supply of money, as to 
produce some abatement in the rate of interest. We 
are in high favour— and Ingle se is a passport every 
where.— The Pope seems to be one of the few sove- 
reigns in Europe who retain any sense of gratitude 
for the good offices of England. The difference of 
sentiment, in the Roman and Neapolitan courts, 
towards us, was illustrated in the most marked 
manner, by their respective treatment of the naval 
officers who were sent by Lord Exmouth with the 
Italian slaves, redeemed at Algiers* 



1818.] ROME END OF THE CARNIVAL. 153 

The partiality of the Pope to the English excites 
the jealousy of the natives ; and perhaps with some 
reason. At all ceremonies and spectacles, the guard 
allow the English to pass over that line which 
is impassable to the Italians ; and I have, more than 
once, heard a native plead Inglese, as a passport to 
follow me. Seats are prepared for the ladies, of 
which they are not backward in availing themselves, 
and I have almost expected, on some occasions, to 
see them elbow the Pope out of his own Chair 
of State. 

3rd. Shrove Tuesday ; — the last day and winding 
up of the Carnival. It was formerly the custom to 
carry a funeral procession of dead Harlequin, on this 
expiration of the Carnival. This, however, is now 
discontinued; but at the conclusion of the horse- 
race on this day, every body carries a taper, and the 
great fun seems to consist in lighting your taper at 
your neighbour's candle, and then blowing out his 
flame ; — a practical joke, with which we may often 
trace an obvious analogy in the serious pastimes 
of Politics and Literature. 

So much for the Carnival of Rome ; of which one 
has heard tales of wonder, from the days of our 
nursery ; — and, indeed, it is only fit for the nursery. 
Nothing can be imagined more childish, and there 
is very little mixture of wit or humour to make the 
childishness amusing. 

4th. Ash Wednesday. Ceremony in the Pope's 
chapel — Sprinkling of ashes on the heads of the 
Cardinals. — Mass as usual. — I have declined being 
presented to his Holiness, thinking, with the Duke 



154 ROME END OF THE CARNIVAL. [FEB. 

of Hamilton, that when the kissing of the toe is 
left out, the ceremony is deprived of all its amuse- 
ment. 

The Pope receives strangers, by six at a time, in 
his own private apartment, in the plain dress of his 
order, without any pomp or state. The Italians in 
general dislike perfumes, and the Pope has a par- 
ticular antipathy to musk. On the last presentation, 
one of the company was highly scented with this 
odour, and Pius was constrained to dismiss the party 
almost immediately. 

5th. My health grows worse and worse ! Con- 
stant irritation. — Day without rest — night without 
sleep; — at least sleep without repose, and rest without 
recreation. 

If life, with health and wealth, and all " appli- 
ances and means to boot," be nothing but vanity 
and vexation of spirit, what is it, alas ! when de- 
prived of all these embellishments ? 

6th. Beautiful day. — The sun shines upon every 
thing but me. — My spirits are as dark as November ; 
but levins jit patient ia ! Went to the Borghese 
Palace, to see and admire again Domenichino's 
Sibyl. — His Chase of Diana too is a superb picture. 
• — Raphael's Deposition from the Cross has too 
much of his first manner in the execution, — though 
it is a noble work in conception and design. Here 
is a fine collection of Titians ; — but, with all their 
glowing beauties, I doubt whether the Venetian 
painters ever gave us more than the bodies — either 
of women or of men. 

7th and 8th. Very unwell; — but Democritus 



1818.] rome — ^:gri somnia. 155 

was a wiser man than Heraclitus. Those are the 
wisest, and the happiest, who can pass through life 
as a play ; who — without making a farce of it, and 
turning every thing into ridicule — or running into 
the opposite extreme of tragedy — consider the whole 
period, from the cradle to the coffin, as a well-bred 
comedy ; — and maintain a cheerful smile to the very 
last scene. For what is happiness, but a Will-o'-the- 
wisp, a delusion ; — a terra incognita — in pursuit of 
which thousands are tempted out of the harbour of 
tranquillity, to be tossed about, the sport of the 
winds of passion, and the waves of disappointment, 
to be wrecked, perhaps, at last on the rocks of de- 
spair; — unless they be provided with the sheet- 
anchor of religion — the only anchor that will hold 
in all weathers. This is a very stupid allegory, but 
it was preached to me this morning by a beautiful 
piece of sculpture, in the studio of Maximilian 
Laboureur. A female figure of Hope has laid aside 
her anchor, and is feeding a monstrous chimera. 
The care and solicitude of Hope, in tending this 
frightful creature, are most happily expressed ; and 
the general effect is so touching, that it illustrates 
Shakspeare's phrase of Sermons in stones with great 
felicity. 



156 [FEB. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Journey to Naples — Pontine Marshes — System of Robbery — 
Capua — Naples — Climate — People — Pompeii — Museo Bor- 
bonico — Italian Dinners — Evening Parties — Italian Honesty 
— Neapolitan Army. 

9th. When the mind is full of fret and fever, 
the best remedy is to put the body in motion, 
which, by establishing an equilibrium between the 
two, may, perhaps, restore something like tranquil- 
lity to the whole system. It was with this hope 
that I left Rome, before day-break, on my way to 
Naples — as fast as four wheels and sixteen legs 
could carry me; — and there is nothing like the 
rattling of wheels to scare away blue devils. 
The road is excellent; and the posting, however 
defective it may be in the appearance and appoint- 
ments of the horses, is in point of celerity equal to 
that on the best- regulated road in England. 

The Pontine Marshes, of which one has heard 
such dreadful accounts, appeared to me to differ but 
little from many parts of Cambridgeshire; though 
the livid aspect of the miserable inhabitants of this 
region is a shocking proof of its unwholesomeness. 
The short, but pathetic reply made to an inquiring 
traveller is well known. — " How do you manage to 
live here ? " said he, to a group of these animated 
spectres — "We die!" — The excellent road which 
runs through these marshes for twenty-five miles, in 



1818.] JOURNEY TO NAPLES. 157 

a direct line, as straight as an arrow, was the work 
of the late Pope Pius VI., for which he will receive 
the thanks of every traveller; but this, like most of 
his other undertakings, exposed him to the satire of 
his contemporaries, and it became a proverb, when 
talking of sums expended in extravagance, to say, 
" — sono andate alle paludi Pontine." 

Early in the evening, we reached Terracina — the 
ancient Anxur of the Romans. Its situation is 
strikingly beautiful, at the foot of the Apennines, 
and on the shore of the Mediterranean ; and it 
is backed, as Horace has accurately described, 
" sax is late candentibus" We were induced to 
halt here, by the representations that were made to 
us of the dangers of travelling after dark. It seems, 
we are now in the stronghold of the robbers, where 
they commit the most barefaced outrages. 

The man who had no money in his pocket might 
formerly dismiss all fear of robbers ; — but in these 
days, an empty purse is no longer a security. These 
modern desperadoes carry men away even from their 
homes, for the sake of the ransom which they think 
they may extort for their liberation. We are told 
that two men were lately kidnapped from this 
neighbourhood, and taken up into the mountains. 
The friends of the one sent up nearly the sum that 
was demanded ;— the other had no friends to re- 
deem him. The robbers settled the affair, in the 
true spirit of that cold-blooded savage disposition 
that has leisure to be sportive in its cruelty. They 
sent the first man back without his ears ; detaining 
these as a set off against the deficiency in the ran- 



158 SYSTEM OF ROBBERY. [FEB. 

som ; — and the other poor fellow was returned in 
eight pieces !— So much for Italian government. 
An edict has been lately issued against ransoms, as 
operating to encourage kidnapping. This may be 
an excellent law for the public ; but it would re- 
quire the patriotism of Regulus, in an individual 
falling into the hands of these marauders, to con- 
sider the public interest in preference to his own. 

10th. Soon after quitting Terracina, we entered 
the Neapolitan territory, where the road begins 
to wind among the Apennines; and, for many 
miles, it is one continued pass through a wild and 
rugged country. It seems intended by nature for 
the region of robbers. The government of Naples 
has adopted the most vigorous measures for the 
protection of travellers. Small parties of soldiers 
are encamped, at half a mile's distance from each 
other, during the whole line of road, from Terracina 
to Capua. But, quis custodiet ipsos custodies? — it 
is said that the soldiers themselves, after dark, lay 
aside their military dress, and act as banditti. The 
richness and luxuriance of the country between 
Terracina and Naples are very striking. Hedges 
of laurustinus, olives, and vineyards ; — orange and 
lemon groves covered with fruit ; — myrtle, fig, and 
palm-trees, give a new and softer character to the 
landscape. 

The orange-tree adds richness to the prospect, 
but its form is too clumpy — too round and regular 
— to be picturesque. 

The inhabitants seem to increase in misery, in 
proportion to the improving mildness of the climate 



1818.] . fonei. 159 

and fertility of the soil. I have never seen such 
shocking objects of human wretchedness, as in this 
smiling- land of corn, wine, and oil. At Fondi 
especially, the poor naked creatures seemed ab- 
solutely in a state of starvation, and scrambled 
eagerly for the orange-peel which fell from our 
carriage. Surrounded by these squalid spectres, we 
might almost have fancied ourselves already arrived 
at the confines of Orcus ; and that we had actually 
before our eyes the " terribiles visu Formce " with 
which the poet has invested its entrance : 

u Luctus, et ultrices posuere cubilia Carce, 

u Pallentesque habitant Morbi, tritisque Senectus ; 

" Et Metus, et malesuada Fames, et turpis Egestas.^ 

Most of these might have been painted to the life 
from the ghastly group around us ; and indeed, with 
the exception of " Labos" there is scarcely a per- 
sonage in the passage alluded to, that might not 
find an adequate representative at Fondi. This 
very absence, indeed, of Industry goes far to account 
for the presence of the rest ; for though the greater 
part of this misery may be attributed to the faults of 
the government, yet some little seems to flow from 
the very blessings of a fine climate and rich soil 
— for nothing will supply the want of industry. 

At Fondi we have a specimen of the old Appian 
way, and are jolted on the very pavement that Ho- 
race travelled over in his journey to Brundusium. 
There is, too, in the Bureau of the Custom-House, 
just such a jack-in-office as Horace ridicules on the 
same occasion. 



160 CAPUA NAPLES. [FEB. 

The extortions of the various Custom-Houses are 
the most flagrant impositions ; and I have always 
resisted them with success, when, from an un- 
willingness to submit to injustice, I have been 
foolish enough to encounter the inconvenience of 
maintaining the rights of travellers : but, I believe, 
it is a wiser plan to get rid of all trouble by a small 
gratuity ; for though they have no right to make you 
pay any thing, they may detain and search you, 
if they please, and an exemption from such delays is 
cheaply bought by the sacrifice of a few pauls. 

In consequence of a detention of two hours at 
Capua, which all travellers must reckon upon, we 
did not reach Naples till after dark. 

11th. First view of the bay of Naples, — of 
which the windows of our lodging command a fine 
prospect. 

The weather is beautiful, and as warm as a June 
day in England. We sit at breakfast, without a 
fire, on a marble floor — with the casements open, 
enjoying the mild fresh breeze from the sea. The 
first view of Vesuvius disappoints expectation. You 
would not know that it was a burning mountain if 
you were not told so ; the smoke has only the ap- 
pearance of that light passing cloud, which is so 
often seen hanging on the brow of a hill. Drove 
after breakfast to the Campo di Marte ; where to 
my great surprise, I found myself transported ten 
years backwards, into the middle of old school- 
fellows. 

There was a regular double-wicket cricket match 
going on ; — Eton against the world ; — and the world 



1818.] NAPLES. 161 

was beaten in one innings ! This disposition to 
carry the amusements of their own country along 
with them is a striking characteristic of the English. 
One of them imports a pack of hounds from England 
to Rome, and hunts regularly during the season, to 
the great astonishment of the natives. — At Florence, 
they establish races on the Cascine, after the Eng- 
lish manner, and ride their own horses, with the 
caps and jackets of English jockeys ; — and, every- 
where, they make themselves independent of the 
natives, and rather provide entertainment for them- 
selves, than seek it from the same sources with the 
people amongst whom they may happen to be. 
What should we say in London, if the Turks, or the 
Persians, or the Russians, or the French, were to 
make Hyde Park the scene of their national pas- 
times ? It is this exclusively national spirit, and 
the undisguised contempt for all other people, that 
the English are so accustomed to express in their 
manner and conduct, which have made us so gene- 
rally unpopular on the continent* Our hauteur is 
the subject of universal complaint — and the com- 
plaint seems but too well founded. 

The view of Naples, from the hill immediately 
above it, forms a magnificent coup oVceil. It com- 
bines all the features of the grand and the splendid ; 
— the town — the Bay — Vesuvius. It would be com- 
plete, if the sea part of it were more enlivened with 
shipping. 

12th. Oh this land of zephyrs ! Yesterday was 
as warm as July ; — to-day we are shivering, with a 
bleak easterly wind, and an English black frost. I 

M 



162 NAPLES. [FEB. 

find we are come to Naples too soon. It would 
have been quite time enough three months hence. 
Naples is one of the worst climates in Europe for 
complaints of the chest ; and the winter is much 
colder here than at Rome, notwithstanding the 
latitude. Whatever we may think of sea air in 
England, the effect is very different here. The sea- 
breeze in Devonshire is mild and soft, — here it is 
keen and piercing ; and, as it sets in regularly at 
noon, I doubt whether Naples can ever be oppres- 
sively hot, even in summer. 

We are lodged in the house of a Bishop ; — by 
which term must not be understood, a personage 
bearing the slightest resemblance to the dignified 
character we mean by it in England, but a little 
dirty-looking chocolate-coloured creature, with no 
single pretension to the appearance of a gentleman. 
We occupy the whole of his house, except one bed- 
room, in which Monsignore lives like a snail in his 
shell. He will chatter for two hours, to extract a 
few carlini from our pockets ; and his great occu- 
pation and pleasure consist in scolding his servants; 
— but some excuse may be made for this, as it is a 
duty which may seem to devolve upon him from the 
law of celibacy. 

13th, 14th, and 15th. Confined to the house ; — 
the little Bishop endeavours to amuse the hours 
of my confinement, by exhibiting all his episcopal 
trappings, which he has done with the sort of fiddle- 
faddle vanity, with which an old maid of three-score 
would display the court-dresses of her youth. 
Nothing would please him but I must try on his 



1818.] NAPLES. 163 

mitres, while he stood by giggling and skipping, as 
if it had been the best joke in the world. He tells 
me that he was in attendance upon the Pope during 
his captivity in France ; and was a witness of the 
scene between Napoleon and his Holiness, at which 
it has been erroneously stated that Napoleon, in the 
heat of anger, was brutal enough to strike him. 

The Bishop describes it as an altercation; in 
which Napoleon exhausted all his efforts in endea- 
vouring to overcome the Pope's objections to signing 
the treaty, which he, Napoleon, had dictated. The 
Pope remained firm, declaring that he could sign 
no treaty but in his own palace at Rome. Irritated 
by this inflexible opposition, Napoleon burst out with 
a sacre Dieu ! at being thwarted par un petit 
Pretre, and with ruffian violence, forgetting what 
was due to the age and character of the venerable 
Pius, he did, according to the Bishop's account, 
lay hold of the Pope's garments : — but without 
striking him. 

The little Bishop, it seems, had a great curiosity 
to see England, and begged hard of Napoleon for 
permission to make a visit to London for a few 
weeks : Napoleon, however, would never consent ; 
but used to pull him playfully by the ear, and tell 
him, that he would be corrupted, and converted, in 
our Island of Heretics. 

16th. Sunshine again — Delightful lounging day. 
The noise of Naples is enough to drive a nervous 
man mad. It would be difficult to imagine the 
eternal bustle and worry of the streets ; — the people 
bawling and roaring at each other in all directions ; 

m 2 



164 NAPLES. [FEB. 

beggars soliciting* your charity with one hand, while 
they pick your pocket of your handkerchief with the 
other ; — and the carriages cutting their way through 
the crowd, with which the streets are thronged, with 
a fearful rapidity. It requires the patience of Job 
to carry on any dealings with the people, who are a 
most unconscionable set; every bargain is a battle, 
and it seems to be an established rule, to ask, on all 
occasions, three times as much as is just. An 
Englishman cannot show himself without being- 
immediately surrounded by a troop of clamorous 
applicants, as ravenous as birds of prey about a 
carcass; — all anxious to have their share of the 
carrion. 

The Toledo is the principal street in Naples ; and 
a very splendid and showy street it is. The shops 
are gay and gaudy, and " the tide of human exist- 
ence 5 ' flows with almost as much volume, and a 
great deal more noise than at Charing-Cross ; but I 
think it cannot be compared with the solid and sub- 
stantial magnificence of the Corso at Rome. This 
street is the very paradise of pick-pockets ; I de- 
tected a ragged urchin this morning in the act of 
extracting my handkerchief, but he looked up into 
my face with such an arch, though piteous expres- 
sion, that my resentment was disarmed, and he 
made his retreat under a volley of eccellenzas, 
which he showered upon me with a grateful pro- 
fusion. 

Upon arriving at Naples after a residence in 
Rome, one is immediately struck with the inferiority 
of taste displayed in the architectural ornaments of 
the town. 



, 



1818.] NAPLES. 165 

After Rome, every thing" at Naples looks poor and 
paltry ; — show and glitter seem to be the great 
objects of admiration ; — and every thing, as Forsyth 
says, is gilded, from the cupolas of the churches to 
the pill of the apothecary. 

17th. The rate of living is much the same at 
Naples as at Rome. The ordinary price of lodg- 
ings, sufficient for the accommodation of two per- 
sons, is forty dollars a month — about eight pounds 
English. Our dinner is supplied from the kitchen 
of a neighbouring archbishop, by his lordship's 
cook, at eight car lint per head ; — the carlino being 
about four-pence English. 

The wines of Naples are remarkably good, if 
care be taken to get them genuine, which is easily 
done where so many people make their own wine ; 
— but beware of the adulterations of the wine 
trade ! The lacryma Christi is not the rare pre- 
cious liqueur, which it has been sometimes de- 
scribed, but a strong-bodied generous wine, which 
is made in great quantities. The vineyards that 
supply this liquor are situated at the foot of Ve- 
suvius. It appears to be very well calculated for 
the English taste, and it is said to bear the voyage 
without injury. The cost of a pipe, with all the 
expense of importing it to England, duty and 
freight included, would not amount to more than 
80/. ; and Mr. Grandorges, the host of the Albergo 
del Sole, and the proprietor of a magazine of all 
sorts of English goods, tells me that he has al- 
ready sent many pipes to London. 

All sorts of English manufactures are to be found 



166 POMPEII. [FEB. 

at the above-mentioned magazine, which can only 
be accounted for by the partiality of the English to 
the productions of their own country ; for the im- 
portation duty to the Neapolitan government is no 
less than 60 per cent, 

The Neapolitans seem to like us as little as the 
Portuguese, and the temper of the government is 
constantly breaking out in little spiteful exertions 
of power directed against English subjects. 

18th. Excursion to Pompeii. The remains of this 
town afford a truly interesting spectacle. It is 
like a resurrection from the dead ; — the progress of 
time and decay is arrested, and you are admitted to 
the temples, the theatres, and the domestic privacy 
of a people who have ceased to exist for seventeen 
centuries. Nothing is wanting but the inhabitants. 
Still, a morning's walk through the solemn silent 
streets of Pompeii, will give you a livelier idea of 
their modes of life, than all the books in the world. 
They seem, like the French of the present day, to 
have existed only in public. 

Their theatres, temples, basilicas, forums, are 
on the most splendid scale, but in their private 
dwellings we discover little or no attention to 
comfort. The houses in general have a small 
court, round which the rooms are built, which are 
rather cells than rooms ; the greater part are with- 
out windows, receiving light only from the door. 

There are no chimneys ; — the smoke of the 
kitchen, which is usually low and dark, must have 
found its way through a hole in the ceiling. The 
doors are so low, that you are obliged to stoop 



1818.] pompeii. 167 

to pass through them. There are some traces of 
mosaic flooring, and the stucco paintings, with 
which all the walls are covered, are hut little in- 
jured; and upon heing wetted, they appear as 
fresh as ever. Brown, red, yellow, and hlue, are 
the prevailing colours. It is pity that the contents 
of the houses could not have heen allowed to 
remain in the state in which they were found; — 
hut this would have heen impossible. Travellers 
are the greatest thieves in the world. As it is, 
they will tear down, without scruple, the whole 
side of a room, to cut out a favourable specimen 
of the stucco painting. If it were not for this pil- 
fering propensity, we might have seen every thing 
as it really was left at the time of this great cala- 
mity; even to the skeleton, which was found with 
a purse of gold in its hand, trying to run away 
from the impending destruction, and exhibiting 
" the ruling passion strong in death " in the last 
object of its anxiety. In the stocks of the guard- 
room, which were used as a military punishment, 
the skeletons of four soldiers were found sitting; 
but these poor fellows have now been released 
from their ignominious situation, and the stocks, 
with every thing else that was moveable, have been 
placed in the Museum ; the bones being consigned 
to their parent clay. 

Pompeii therefore exhibits nothing but bare 
walls, and the walls are without roofs ; for these 
have been broken in by the weight of the shower of 
ashes and pumice stones, that caused the destruc- 
tion of the town. 



168 POMPEII. [feb. 

The Amphitheatre is very perfect, as indeed are 
the other two theatres, intended for dramatic repre- 
sentations; though it is evident that they had sus- 
tained some injury from the earthquake, which, as 
we learn from Tacitus, had already much damaged 
this devoted town, before its final destruction by 
the eruption of Vesuvius : 

" Et motu terrce celebre Campanice oppidum 
Pompeii, magna ex parte proruit" Tacitus, Ann. 
xv. c. 22. 

The paintings on the walls of the Amphitheatre 
represent the combats of gladiators and wild 
beasts, — the dens of which remain just as they were 
seventeen hundred years ago. 

The two theatres for dramatic entertainments are 
as close together as our own Drury Lane and 
Covent Garden. The larger one, which might 
have contained five thousand persons, like the 
amphitheatres, had no roof, but was open to the 
light of day. The stage is very much circum- 
scribed — there is no depth ; and there are conse- 
quently no side scenes : the form and appearance 
are like that of our own theatres, when the drop- 
scene is down, and forms the extent of the stage. 
In this back scene of the Roman stage, which, 
instead of canvass, is composed of unchangeable 
brick and marble, are three doors; and there are 
two others on the sides, answering to our own 
stage-doors. It seems that it was the theatrical 
etiquette, that the premiers roles should have their 
exits and entrances through the doors of the back 
scene, and the inferior ones through those on the 
sides. 



1818.] pompeii. 169 

The little theatre is in better preservation than 
the other ; and it is supposed that this was intended 
for musical entertainments. 

The Temple of Isis has suffered little injury. 
The statues, indeed, have been taken away ; but 
you see the very altar on which the victims were 
offered ; and you may now ascend without cere- 
mony the private stairs which led to the sanctum 
sanctorum of the Goddess, where those mysterious 
rites were celebrated, the nature of which may be 
shrewdly guessed from the curiosities discovered 
there, which are now to be seen in the Museo Bor- 
bonico. In a niche, on the outside of the temple, 
was a statue of Harpocrates — the God of Silence — 
who was most appropriately placed here ; but 

(i Foul deeds will rise, 
Though all the earth o'-erwhelm them ; to men's eyes." 

The streets are very narrow ; the marks of wheels 
on the pavement show that carriages were in use ; 
but there must have been some regulation to pre- 
vent their meeting each other ; for one carriage 
would have occupied the whole of the street, except 
the narrow trottoir, raised on each side for foot pas- 
sengers, for whose accommodation there are also 
raised stepping-stones, in order to cross from one 
side to the other. The distance between the wheel- 
tracks is four feet three inches. 

There is often an emblem over the door of a 
house, that determines the profession of its former 
owner. — The word " Salve " on one, seems to 
denote that it was an inn, as we have, in our own 



170 POMPEII. [feb. 

days, the sign of " The Salutation." — In the outer 
brick-work of another is carved an emblem, which 
shocks the refinement of modern taste ; but which 
has been an object even of religious adoration, in 
many countries, probably as a symbol of creative 
power. The same device is found on the stucco 
of the inner court of another house, with this inti- 
mation — Hie habitat Felicitas — a sufficient expla- 
nation of the character of its inhabitants. 

Many of the paintings on the walls are very ele- 
gant in the taste and design, and they often assist 
us in ascertaining the uses for which the different 
rooms were intended. For example ; — in the baths*, 
we find Tritons, and Naiads ; in the bed-chambers, 
Morpheus scatters his poppies; and in the eating- 
room, a sacrifice to Esculapius teaches us, that we 
should eat, to live ; — and not live, to eat. — In one 
of these rooms are the remains of a triclinium. 

A baker's shop is as plainly indicated as if the 
loaves were now at his window. There is a mill for 
the grinding of corn, and the oven for baking ; and 
the surgeon and the druggist have also been traced, 
by the quality of the articles found in their respective 
dwellings. 

But the most complete specimen that we have of 
an ancient residence, is the villa which has been 
discovered at a small distance without the gate. It 
is on a more splendid scale than any of the houses 
in the town itself, and it has been preserved with 
scarcely any injury. 

* In one of the baths, which probably belonged to a female, 
is a pretty and well-preserved fresco of the story of Actaeon. 



1818.] pompeii. 171 

Some have imagined that this was the Pompei- 
anum — the Pompeian Villa of Cicero. Be this as it 
may — it must have belonged to a man of taste. 
Situated on a sloping bank, the front entrance opens, 
as it were, into the first floor ; below which, on the 
garden side, into which the house looks' — for the 
door is the only aperture on the road-side — is a 
ground floor, with spacious arcades and open rooms, 
all facing the garden ; — and above are the sleeping 
rooms. The walls and ceilings of this villa are or- 
namented with paintings of very elegant design, all 
which have a relation to the uses of the apartments 
in which they are placed. In the middle of the 
garden there is a reservoir of water, surrounded by 
columns, and the ancient well still remains. Though 
we have many specimens of Roman glass, in their 
drinking vessels, it has been doubted whether they 
were acquainted with the use of it for windows. 
Swinburne, however, in describing Pompeii, says 
" in the window of a bed-chamber some panes of 
glass are still remaining." This would seem to 
decide the question; — but they remain no longer. 
The host w r as fond of conviviality, if we may judge 
from the dimensions of his cellar, which extends 
under the whole of the house and the arcades also ; 
and many of the amphorce remain, in which the 
wine was stowed. It was here that the skeletons of 
seven and twenty poor wretches were found, who 
took refuge in this place from the fiery shower that 
would have killed them at once, to suffer the linger- 
ing torments of being starved to death. 

It was in one of the Porticos, leading to the out- 



172 POMPEII. [feb. 

ward entrance, that the skeleton, supposed to be that 
of the master of the house, was found ; with a key in 
one hand, and a purse of gold in the other. 

So much for Pompeii : — I lingered amongst its 
ruins till the close of evening ; and have seldom 
passed a day with feelings of interest so strongly ex- 
cited, or with impressions of the transient nature of 
all human possessions so strongly enforced, as by 
the solemn solitudes of this resuscitated town *. 

19th. Passed the morning in the Museo Bor- 
bonico ; — a magnificent establishment, containing 
rich collections of statues, pictures, and books. 
Here too are deposited the greater part of the 
curiosities found at Herculaneum and Pompeii, 
which were formerly at Portici. When the King 
was obliged to fly from Naples to Sicily, he took 
with him, from Portici, every thing that could be 
easily packed up; these articles have now been 
brought back, and are arranged in the Museo Bor- 
bonico. 

Here you see — " the ancient most domestic or- 
naments" — the furniture — the kitchen utensils — the 
surgical instruments — the trinkets, fyc. fyc, of the 
old Romans. 

This collection illustrates Solomon's apophthegm, 
that there is nothing new under the sun. — There is 
much that, with a little scouring, would scarcely 
appear old fashioned at the present dry. This is not 

* Romanelli's hint is worth attention, who recommends tra- 
vellers to enter Pompeii by the way of the tombs, that so the 
interest may be kept alive by reserving the more important 
objects until the last. 



1818.] NAPLES MUSEO BORBONICO. 173 

surprising in many of the articles, considering that 
our makers of pottery, and tea-urns, have been long 
busied in copying from these ancient models. But 
it is the same with other things; the bits of the 
bridles, and the steel-yard and scales for weighing, 
the lamps, the dice, the surgeon's probe, are all very 
much like our own. We seem to have improved 
principally upon the Romans, in hardware and cutlery. 
Their locks and keys, scissors and needles, are very 
clumsy articles ; and their seals, rings, and necklaces, 
look as if they had been made at the blacksmith's 
forge. The toilets of the ladies, too, were not so 
elegantly furnished with knick-knacks in those days ; 
— we have specimens of the whole arrangement of 
their dressing-tables, even to their little crystal boxes 
of essences and cosmetics. Their combs would 
scarcely compare with those which we use in our 
stables ; and there is nothing that would be fit for a 
modern lady's dressing-case. We find nothing like 
knives and forks. 

The weight of the steel-yard is generally the 
head of an Emperor. There is a sun-dial — the 
gnomon of which is the hinder part of a pig, with 
the tail sticking up, to cast the shadow. The tes- 
serce, or tickets of admission to the theatres, are of 
ivory ; and I remarked one with the name of the 
poet iEsehylus written on it in Greek characters. 
The apparatus of the kitchen may be studied in all 
its details, through every variety of urn, kettle, and 
saucepan. The armoury presents to us the very 
helmets, and breast-plates, and swords, with which 



174 NAPLES MUSEO BORBONICO. [FEB. 

the Romans gained the empire of the world ; in a 
word, every thing here excites the liveliest interest, 
even to the tops, and play-things, which prove the 
antiquity of our own school-boy amusements ; but 
in these, as in other matters, the poverty of human 
invention is strikingly displayed ; — for, whether we 
ride upon sticks or play at odd and even, we find 
that we are only copying the pastimes of children 
who were wont two thousand years ago — 

" Ludere par impair, equitare in arundine longa." 

Among the pictures, there is an old woman selling 
Cupids to a young female, behind whom stands a 
sort of duenna, in the attitude of advice and caution. 
The old retailer of loves holds a fluttering Cupid by 
the wings, and has another in her cage. 

Many articles, even of food, are to be seen, pre- 
served in a charcoal state. There is a loaf of bread 
on which the baker's name is still visible. 

It is easy to recognise the different fruits and 
vegetables, corn, rice, figs, almonds, walnuts, beans, 
lentils, &c. They show you also the necklace and 
bracelets of gold, belonging to the female whose 
remains, together with the incrustation of ashes 
which overwhelmed her — and which, hardened by 
time, still retain the impression of her bosom — are 
preserved at Portici. 

In a small room in the Museum are collected 
those curiosities, which, interesting as they are, as 
throwing light upon the manners of ancient times, 
are justly offensive to modern delicacy. The most 



1818.] NAPLES MUSEO BORBOXICO. 175 

extraordinary of these are, the ornaments and deco- 
rations of the Temple of Isis, some of which will 
scarcely bear a detailed description.* 

Amongst these, there is a priapic goblet ; from 
the month of which it is plain that the votaries 
must have quaffed the wine. 

20th. The weather is beyond measure severe and 
trying : — with a hot sun, there is a winter wind of 
the most piercing bitterness. A pulmonary invalid 
had better avoid Naples at any time, but certainly 
during the winter, unless he wish to illustrate the 
proverb, " Vecli Napoli e po* mori." It is not easy 
for such an invalid, if his case is notorious, to get 
lodgings ; or at least he will, on that account, be 
asked a much higher price for them ; for consump- 
tion is here considered to be contagious, and in case 
of death, the whole of the furniture in the occupa- 

* The phallic ornament, worn round the necks of the ladies, 
as a charm against sterility, appears in every variety of mate- 
rial, — gold, silver, and coral; and invention seems to have been 
racked, to represent it in every variety of shape. 

Sometimes it is a snail peeping out of its shell ; — sometimes, 
a Cupid astride is crowning it with a chaplet ; and sometimes 
it terminates in some frightful reptile, that turns round with 
an expression of rage ; — illustrating perhaps the passage of 
Horace: — i( mea cum conferbuxt iraP What can demonstrate 
more clearly, the coarseness and corruption of ancient taste ? 
unless it be the monstrous conjunctions, consecrated by their 
abominable superstition, which are still more shocking evidences 
of the depravity of their imaginations. There is an example 
of these, in a piece of sculpture, dug up at Herculaneum, now 
in this museum, which exhibits great powers of expression and 
execution ; but it had better have remained buried under the 
ruins of Herculaneum. 



176 NAPLES MUSEO BORBONICO. [FEB. 

tion of the deceased is burnt, and his rooms are 
fumigated and white-washed. 

Drove to Capo di Monte, a palace of the King, 
in the environs of the town — Palaces, however, are 
the most tiresome things in the world, for one is 
just like another — all glitter and tinsel. Here are 
some of the best works of Camuccini. There was 

4* 

one that pleased me much, representing Pericles, 
Socrates, and Alcibiades, brought by Aspasia to 
admire the works of Phidias. This has all the 
fidelity of an historical picture, for the faces have 
been closely copied from the antique marbles. 

21st. Again to the Museo. The library is said 
to contain ] 50,000 volumes, and it seems to be well 
furnished with the literature of all nations. Per- 
mission is easily obtained here, as at the British 
Museum, to enjoy the privilege of reading. Amongst 
the curious manuscripts, I was shown the Aminta of 
Tasso, in his own hand-writing— which, by the way, 
was a vile scrawl. 

In another quarter, is a large collection of 
Etruscan vases, in which the elegance of the form 
shames the badness of the painting. It is strange 
that a people, who seem to have had an intuitive 
tact for the elegant and the beautiful, in the form 
and shape of their vessels, should have had so little 
taste in the art of design. 

In the collection of pictures there is much that 
is curious, and much that is beautiful. In the 
former class, are the specimens of the first essays of 
the first founders of the art of painting in Italy. It 
is curious to trace its progress through the different 



1818.] NAPLES MUSEO BORBONICO. 177 

stages of improvement, till it was at last brought to 
perfection in the age of Raphael. 

In the same class, is an original picture of Co- 
lumbus, by Parmeggianino ; and a portrait of Philip 
the Second of Spain, which looks the narrow-minded, 
cold-blooded tyrant, that he was in reality. 

And, lastly, here is the original sketch of the Last 
Judgment, by Michael Angelo, from which he after- 
wards painted his great picture. It has been coloured 
by a later hand. — It ought to be hung up in the 
Sistine chapel, as a key to make the fresco intelli- 
gible ; for much is here seen distinctly, that is quite 
faded in the large picture. For instance, time has 
done for Cardinal Biagio, what he in vain asked of 
the Pope; and it is only in this sketch that the 
bitter resentment of the painter is recorded, which 
placed him amongst the damned, in the gripe of a 
malignant daemon — who is dragging him down to 
the bottomless pit, in a manner at once the most 
ferocious and degrading. 

In the latter class, there are many that deserve enu- 
meration. Two Holy Families by Raphael, are full 
of the almost heavenly graces with which he, above 
all other painters, has embellished the subject. 

There are two landscapes ; — and a wild witch on 
a wilder heath, in the very wildest style of S^lvator 
Rosa. 

Titian's Danae is all that is lovely and luscious ; 
and there are some charming pictures of Corregio ; 
— but, I believe, this collection altogether detained 
me less than it deserved ; for, after feasting the 
imagination, in the galleries of Florence and Rome, 

N 



178 NAPLES ITALIAN DINNERS. [FEB. 

with the contemplation of the very finest efforts of 
the pencil, it requires excellence to stimulate the 
languid attention, and satisfy the increasing fastidi- 
ousness of the taste. This is a cruel deduction from 
the pleasure which is expected to be derived from 
familiarity with excellence, and improvement in 
knowledge ; so that, after all it may be doubted 
whether we grow happier, as we grow wiser; and, 
perhaps, those who are at the most pains to see the 
best that is to be seen — to read the best that is to be 
read — and to hear the best that is to be heard — are 
only labouring to exhaust the sources of innocent 
gratification, and incapacitating themselves from 
future enjoyment, by approaching nearer to that 
condition which has been so truly described as a 
state of 

" Painful pre-eminence yourself to view, 

" Above life's weakness, and its comforts too !" 

22d. Yesterday we had December's wind ; to-day 
we have November's rain ; and such is the climate 
of Naples. 

Dined with an Italian family, to whom I brought 
letters of recommendation from Rome. This was 
the first occasion that I have had of seeing an 
Italian dress dinner;— but there was scarcely any 
thing strange to excite remark. The luxury of the 
rich is nearly the same throughout Europe. Some 
trifling particularities struck me, though I think 
the deviations from our own customs were all im- 
provements. There was no formal top and bottom 
to the table, which was round, and the host could 
net be determined from his place. All the dishes 
were removed from the table as they were wanted, 



J818.] NAPLES ITALIAN DINNERS. 179 

carved by a servant at the sideboard and handed 
round. Each person was provided with a bottle of 
wine, and a bottle of water, as with a plate, and 
knife and fork. There was no asking to drink wine, 
nor drinking of healths; no inviting people to eat, 
nor c*arving for them. All these duties devolved on 
the domestics; and the conversation, which, in 
England, as long as dinner lasts, is often confined 
to the business of eating, with all its important 
auxiliaries of sauces and seasonings, took its free 
course, unchecked by any interruptions arising out 
of the business in hand. This is surely the perfec- 
tion of comfort — to be able to eat and drink what 
you please without exciting attention or remark; — 
and I cannot but think it would be a great im- 
provement upon our troublesome fashion of passing 
the bottle, to substitute the Italian mode of placing 
a separate decanter to each person. 

Economy, in a country where wine is so dear as 
in* England, can be the only objection; for, though 
I have heard some persons argue that the pleasure 
of drinking is increased by a common participation 
in the very same bottle ; such a notion can scarcely 
be founded in reason, unless it is allowed that this 
pleasure is still more exquisitely enjoyed in the tap- 
room, where each man partakes of the same mug, 
without even the intervention of glasses. For my 
part, I am for extending the privilege of Idome- 
neus's cup to every guest : 

arkuov Vitrei; cchi 
"£<??,%, ufftno luoiy srliuV) oti Gvpos fawyau 

Iliad, iv. 262. 
N 2 



180 NAPLES MUSEO BORBONICO. [FEB. 

But an invitation to dinner is a rare occurrence 
in Italy ; for dinner is not here, generally speaking, 
the social feast of elaborate enjoyment, which we 
are accustomed to make it in England — occupying 
a considerable portion of the day, and constituting 
the principal object of meeting — but a slovenly 
meal, despatched in haste, and in dishabille ; and it 
is for this reason that an Englishman is rarely 
invited, except on extraordinary occasions, to partake 
of it. 

In the evening, to a conversazione, at the arch- 
bishop of Tarento's; — one of the finest and most 
respectable-looking old men I ever saw. The inter- 
course of society is perhaps managed better abroad 
than in England. The system of being at home in 
the evening, to those persons with whom you are 
desirous of associating, without the formality of 
sending a special invitation, facilitates that pleasant 
and easy society, which enlivens, without at all 
destroying, the retirement of domestic life; — and it 
is carried on with no greater expense than a few 
additional cups of coffee, or glasses of lemonade. 
How much more rational is such a friendly inter- 
course, than the formal morning visits, or the heart- 
less evening routs, of our own country ! 

23d. Again to the Museo. — Examined the in- 
genious machinery employed to unroll the manu- 
scripts found at Herculaneum. These are reduced 
to a state of tinder, but the writing is still legible. 
From the specimen that I saw, it seemed necessary, 
however, to supply at least a fifth, by conjecture. 
Curiosity is kept alive till the last, for the name of 



1813.] NAPLES EPISCOPAL HONESTY. 181 

the author is inscribed on the beginning of the 
manuscript, and this of course cannot appear till 
the whole roll is unravelled. The collection of 
statues is very extensive, but I must repeat, of the 
statues, what I have said of the pictures. After 
the Tribune — the Capitol — and the Vatican — what 
remains to be seen in sculpture ? — and yet the 
Venus callipyge is a most beautiful creature ; — but 
how shall we excuse her attitude ? 

The famous Farnese Hercules may be calculated 
to please an anatomist, but certainly no one else. 
This is the work of Glycon, and is perhaps the 
allusion of Horace, in his first epistle, where he 
mentions the " invicti membra Glyconis ;" — a 
passage that does not seem to be satisfactorily 
explained. 

The Flora is generally admired; but a colossal 
statue is seldom a pleasing object, and never when 
it represents a woman. Gigantic proportions are 
absolutely inconsistent with female loveliness. 

24th to 28th. Confined to the house with a 
cough ; — the effect of the bitter wind that has 
been blowing upon us from the mountains. — The 
Lord deliver us from another winter at Naples ! — 
Our episcopal landlord turns out a very caitiff. 
The last occupier of our lodgings — a young Eng- 
lishman, who was confined to his bed by illness — ■ 
had occasion to send a bill to his banker's to be 
cashed ; on which errand he employed the servant 
of Monsignore. As it has been imputed to Italian 
bankers that they sometimes miscount dollars, he 
took the precaution to examine immediately the 



182 NAFLES NEAPOLITAN ARMY. [FEB. 

contents of his bag. Finding that there was a defi- 
ciency of twenty dollars, he summoned the servant, 
and being unable to get any explanation, he was 
preparing a note to the banker to institute an 
inquiry, when the man confessed that his master 
had stopped him, upon his return, and taken twenty 
dollars out of the bag; — trusting, as it seems, to 
the proverbial carelessness of our countrymen. If 
a bishop will do this, what might we not expect 
from the poorer classes of society ? and yet I must 
confess I have never met with any such dishonesty in 
the lower orders, except amongst the pick-pockets in 
the Strada Toledo. 

In an arbitrary government like that of Naples, a 
stranger is surprised by the freedom of speech which 
prevails on political subjects. The people seem full 
of discontent. In the coffee-houses, restaurateurs, 
nay, even in the streets, you hear the most bitter in- 
vectives against the government, and tirades against 
the royal family. 

One would imagine, from such general complain- 
ings, that the government was in danger — but all 
seems to evaporate in talk ; and indeed Gen. Church 
(an Englishman) at the head of a body of 5000 
foreign troops, is engaged in stopping the mouths of 
the more determined reformers ; which may probably 
explain the secret of the stability of the present system. 

It must be owned that the people have some 
grounds for complaint; for the King has not only 
retained all the imposts which Murat, under the 
pressure of war, found it necessary to levy, but 
he has also revived many of the ways and means of 



1818.] NAPLES NEAPOLITAN ARMY. 183 

the old regime. The property-tax alone amounts to 
twenty-five per cent. ; and there is a sort of excise, 
by which every roll that is eaten by the beggar in the 
streets, is made to contribute a portion to the go- 
vernment purse. 

The military, both horse and foot, make a very 
respectable appearance. To the eye, they are as fine 
soldiers as any in Europe; and the grenadiers of 
the King's guard, dressed in the uniform of our own 
guards, might be admired even in Hyde Park. But 
it appears that they do not like fighting. The 
Austrian general Nugent married a Neapolitan 
princess, and is now commander in chief of that very 
army which, under Murat, ran away from him like a 
flock of sheep. 

It is the fashion to consider soldiers as mere ma- 
chines, and to maintain that discipline will make 
soldiers of any men whatever. This may be true as 
a general rule ; — but may not a slavish submission 
to a despotic government for a long period of years, 
and confirmed habits of effiminate indolence, on the 
part of any people, produce an hereditary taint 
in their blood — gradually making what was habit in 
the parent, constitution in the offspring — and so 
deteriorate the breed, that no immediate manage- 
ment or discipline shall be able to endue such a race 
with the qualities necessary to constitute a soldier ? 
If this maxim need illustration, I would appeal to the 
conduct of the Neapolitan army in Murat 's last 
campaign . 



184 [mar. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Virgil's Tomb — Pozzuoli — Baise — Monte Nuovo — Ayernus— 
Tomb of Scipio — Solfatara — Grotta del Cane — Sirocco Wind 
— Gaming-tables — Quay — Burial of the Dead — Portici 
Museum — Murat — Vesuvius — Herculaneum — ■ Lazzaroni — 
Opera. 

March 1st. The summer sun of to-day brings 
me again out of my hiding-place. — Explored the 
Grotto of Posilipo ; and the tomb of Virgil — as it is 
called ; though there is little doubt that the poet was 
buried on the other side of the bay. On a marble 
slab which is inserted in the rock opposite the en- 
trace of the sepulchre, is the following inscription : — 

QUI CINERES? TVMVLI HLEC VESTIGIA * CONDITVR OLIM 

ILLE HOC QVI CECINIT PASCVA RVRA DVCES * 

CAN * REG ' M'D'LIIII 

Eustace, in his account, gives us Virgil's own 
couplet of Mantua me genuit, &c, but the real 
inscription is as I have transcribed it. How this 
came to be substituted for Virgil's, may be difficult 
to explain ; — but being there, it is more difficult to 
understand why Eustace should give an inscription 
that does not exist, when the true one was staring 
him in the face * 

* Some fatality seems to hang over this inscription, which I 
have never yet seen printed correctly ; — and which, indeed, is 
scarcely worth recording. In correcting the first impression of 
my work, I was induced to alter the hasty transciipt I had 



1818.] NAPLES STRADA NUOVA. 185 

This tomb ought to yield a good revenue to the 
proprietor. The English pilgrims are the most nu- 
merous. A bay-tree once grew out of the top of it; 
but the keeper told me that the English had pulled 
off the leaves, as long as any remained; in the same 
spirit, I suppose, which induced the ladies in Eng- 
land to pull the hairs out of the tail of PlatofF's 
horse. It has been since cut up altogether, and not 
a root is left to mark trie spot. 

Beautiful drive along the coast, on the Strada 
Nuova. — This road was the work of Murat, who has 
done a vast deal to improve and embellish Naples. 
It was he who enlarged and laid out the Villa Reale, 
in the English style of shrubbery, which forms a 
delightful promenade between the Chiaja and the 
sea. 

In the centre of this walk is the group of Dirce, 
commonly called the Toro Farnese. — Pliny tells us 
it was cut out of a single block — 

" Zethus et Amphion, ac Dirce, et Taurus, vincu- 
lumque ex eodem lapide, Rhodo advecta, opera 
Apollonii et Taurisci." 

But the integrity of the original block has been 
much invaded; for, the head and arms of Dirce — the 
head and arms of Antiope — the whole of Amphion 

made on the spot, in deference to a friend in whose accuracy I 
had more faith than in my own. It turns out however after all 
that my original note was correct, and therefore, the true read- 
ing is now restored, as well as the punctuation, which might 
easily escape notice without careful observation. The last line 
is perhaps not the least important of the three, as serving to fix 
the date of this semi- barbarous distich. 



186 POZZUOLI BAIiE. [MAR. 

and Zethus, except the bodies and one leg — and the 
legs and rope of the bull — are modern. 

2nd. Excursion to Pozzuoli and Baice ; where 
all is fairy ground. — Here you may wander about, 
with Virgil and Horace in your hand, and moralize 
over the changes that time has produced. — How are 
the mighty fallen ! — Here the great ones of the 
earth retired, from the noise and smoke of Rome, to 
their voluptuous villas. Baise was the Brighton, 
the Cheltenham — or, perhaps, with more propriety, 
the Bath of Rome; — for it was a winter retreat. 
The rage for building was carried to an extent that 
made it necessary to encroach upon the sea : 

" Contracta pisces aequora sentiunt, 
Jactis in altum molibus. Hue frequens 
Caementa demittit redemptor." 

But their redemptors built with more solid mate- 
rials than our modern builders, whose structures 
will never endure to afford the remnant of a ruin, 
seventeen hundred years hence, to our curious pos- 
terity, as a sample of the style of building of their 
ancestors. 

One might fancy that Horace had been gifted 
with a prophetic sight of the changes that have 
taken place when he wrote 

<: Debemur morti nos, nostraque ; sive receptus 
Terra Neptunus, classes Aquilonibus arcet, 
Regis opus — " 

Who can recognise, in the present appearance of 
the Lucrine Lake, any vestiges of the superb de- 
scription of Virgil ? 



1818.] NAPLES MONTE NUOVO. 187 

u An meraorera portus, Lucrinoque addita claustra : 
Atque indignatum magnis stridoribus aequor, 
Julia qua ponto longe sonat unda refuso, 
Tyrrhenusque fretis immittitur aestus Avernis ? " 

But it is thus that the fashion of this world 
passeth away. The lovely Lucrine — the scene of 
imperial Regatas — is now a mere morass — or at 
most a fenny fish-pond. It was curtailed of its fair 
proportions, and indeed almost filled up, by the 
monstrous birth of the Monte Nuovo — the offspring 
of a volcano — which burst out in 1538 with a fearful 
eruption of flames and fire; the ashes of which, 
after being shot up into the air to an immense 
height, in their descent formed this prodigious 
mountain of cinders. 

Avernus has no longer any thing diabolical about 
it. The axe of Agrippa, by levelling the woods 
that enveloped it in impenetrable gloom, and myste- 
rious dread, long ago deprived the lake of all its 
terrors. Silius Italicus describes the change which 
had already taken place in his time : — 

" Ille, olim populis dictum Styga, nomine verso, 
Stagna inter celebrem nunc mitia monstrat Avernum." 

Popular superstition might well fix upon such 
a spot, situated in the midst of volcanoes, and sup- 
posed to be of unfathomable depth, as the mouth of 
hell : Homer probably followed the real belief of 
his time, in sending Ulysses thither ; — and Virgil 
followed Homer. But if Italy has furnished the 
hells of the poet, it has also supplied them with the 
scenery of Elysium. Milton seems to have culled 
the flowers of his delicious garden of Eden, from 



188 AVERNUS TOMB OF SCIPIO. [MAR. 

the soft and sublime scenery of Tuscany ; and the 
charming' retreats in the neighbourhood of Avernus 
were probably the prototypes of Virgil's habita- 
tions of the blessed; though he could scarcely 
intend to fix the geographical position of his 
Elysium, which, by the concluding words, seems 
evidently transferred to another world — " Solemque 
suum sua sidera norunt." 

From hence we made a pilgrimage to Torre di 
Patria — the ancient Liternum; — the retreat and 
the tomb of Scipio. The word " Patria" is still 
legible on the wall of a watch-tower, which, you 
are told, is all that remains of the angry epitaph 
which he dictated himself: — " Ingrata Patria, 
neque enim mea ossa habebis." It is evident, how- 
ever, that this tower is of modern construction, and 
therefore, the inscription on it only affords evidence 
of the tradition that this was the place of Scipio's 
interment. And this tradition is at least as old as 
Pliny, who tell us there was a notion, that a dragon 
watched over the manes of Scipio, in a cavern at 
Liternum. — Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. xvi. cap. 44. 

Such traditions have usually some foundation in 
truth. But it is extraordinary that the memory of 
so great a man should not have outlived his grave 
long enough to enable history to record where he 
was buried. All that we gain from Livy however 
on this point, rests on the same vague tradition : — 
" Silent ium deinde de Africano fuit. Vitam Li- 
terni egit, sine desiderio urbis. Morientem rure 
eo ipso loco sepeliri se jus sis se ferunt, monumen- 
tumque ibi cedificari, ne funus sibi in ingrata 



1818.] NAPLES SOLFATARA. 189 

patriot jieretP A heap of stones is all that remains 
of the ruins of Liternum ! 

We hurried rapidly over the ruins of Pozzuoli, 
in our way home. A peasant showed us a tomb 
containing' three Sarcophagi, which he had lately 
discovered in his vineyard. He complained bit- 
terly that the King had sent a party of soldiers to 
remove one of these to his Museo, without giving" 
him any remuneration. Further excavation might 
lead to the discovery of curious remains of anti- 
quity;— but who excavate on such terms? The 
bones in the Sarcophagi were in perfect preserva- 
tion. 

Solfatara is well worth seeing. — Murat carried 
on sulphur works here, for his domestic manufac- 
ture of gunpowder. — Three pounds of stone yield 
one pound of sulphur. Solfatara is the crater of an 
extinguished volcano — it is a fearful spot ■ the 
smoke now bursts out in many places ; — the whole 
area is hollow; — and the ground vibrates when you 
stamp with your foot. Water is found at the depth 
of thirty feet. 

Alum works are also carried on here. Earth 
and water are put into a large earthen vessel, which 
is sunk up to the brim in the soil, the heat of which 
causes the water to boil, and as this evaporates, the 
alum is deposited in a crystallized state on the 
sides of the vessel. 

It is from the waters of Solfatara, that the baths 
of Pozzuoli are supplied ; which are said to be 
very efficacious in cutaneous and rheumatic dis- 
orders. 



190 NAPLES GROTTA DEL CANE. [MAR. 

3d. The weather continuing fine, we drove to 
the lake of Agnano ; situated in a delightfully 
retired valley, surrounded by hills. On the border 
of this lake is the Grotta del Cane. Travellers 
have made a great display of sensibility in their 
strictures upon the spectacle exhibited here ; but, to 
all appearance, the dog did not care much about it. 
It may be said with truth of him, that he is used to 
it; for he dies many times a day, and he went to 
the place of execution wagging his tail. 

He became insensible in two minutes; — but upon 
being laid on the grass, he revived from his trance 
in a few seconds, without the process of immersion 
in the lake, which is generally mentioned as neces- 
sary to his recovery. From the voracity with which 
he bolted down a loaf of bread which I bought 
for him, the vapour does not appear to injure the 
animal functions. 

Addison seems to have been very particular in his 
experiments upon the vapour of this cavern. He 
found that a pistol would not take fire in it ; but, 
upon laying a train of gunpowder, and igniting it 
beyond the sphere of the vapour, he found, " that 
it could not intercept the train of fire when it had 
once begun flashing, nor hinder it from running to 
the very end." He subjected a dog to a second 
trial in order to ascertain whether he was longer in 
expiring the first than the second time : — and he 
found there was no sensible difference. A viper 
bore it nine minutes the first time he put it in, and 
ten minutes the second : — and he attributes the pro- 
longed duration of the second trial to the large 



1818.] NAPLES SPIRITO SANTO. 191 

provision of air that the viper laid in after his first 
death, upon which stock he supposes it to have 
existed a minute longer, the second time. 

4th. Read the Italian in a French translation ; 
and afterwards explored the church of & Nicolo, 
where Mrs. RadclifFe has laid the scene of that 
admirable interview between the Marchesa and 
Schedoni, at Vespers ; during which they plot the 
death of EUena. I went afterwards to the church 
of S. Severo, where there are some statues of great 
celebrity. One represents a female covered with a 
veil, which is most happily executed in marble, and 
has all the effects of transparency. This new effect 
of sculpture was the invention and the work of Cor- 
r aclinic a Venetian. 

There is another statue of the same kind, in the 
same church, by the same workman ; — a dead Christ 
— covered with the same marble imitation of a thin 
gauze veil, which appears as if it were moist with 
the cold damp of death. 

There is also a statue of a figure in a net, the 
celebrated work of Queirolo, a Genoese ; which is 
a model of pains and patience. It is cut out of a 
single block : yet the net has many folds, and 
scarcely touches the statue. 

5th. Explored the scenery of the Italian. Went 
to vespers at the church of Spirito Santo ; but the 
places themselves are as different from Mrs. Rad- 
cliffe's romantic description, as the fat unmeaning 
faces of the present monks are from the sublime 
portrait of her stern and terrible Schedoni. But it 
is ever thus. Life is only tolerable in a romance, 



192 THE POPE AND KING OF NAPLES. [MAR. 

where all that is common-place and disgusting is 
kept out of sight; — for what is the reality but, as 
Mr. Shandy says, to shift about from side to side, 
and from sorrow to sorrow — to button up one vexa- 
tion, only to unbutton another ! 

6th. Seized with an acute pain in the side. 

9th. Decided pleurisy — summoned an English 
surgeon to my assistance. High fever — Copious 
bleeding. — Owe my life, under Heaven, to the 
lancet ; whose repeated application was necessary to 
relieve me from the intolerable distress under which 
I had been gasping for some days. I find pleurisy 
is the endemic of Naples. 

14th. JEgri Somnia — If a man be tired of the 
slow lingering progress of consumption, let him 
repair to Naples ; and the denouement will be much 
more rapid. The sirocco wind, which has been blow- 
ing for six days, continues with the same violence. 

The effects of this south-east blast, fraught with 
all the plagues of the deserts of Africa, are imme- 
diately felt in that leaden oppressive dejection of 
spirits, which is the most intolerable of diseases. 
This must surely be the " plumb eus Auster" of 
Horace. 

Neapolitan gossips. — It seems there is a great 
dispute at present between the Pope and the King 
of Naples. His Holiness claims feudal superiority 
over the kingdom, as a fief of the popedom ; and, 
indeed, it would appear, that he has always exer- 
cised the right of investiture to every sovereign of 
Naples, since the foundation of the monarchy by 
Roger the Norman. 



181S.] NAPLES GAMING-TABLE. 193 

Murat, who in the days of his prosperity laughed 
at the papal pretensions, after the downfall of Na- 
poleon, thought it prudent to make his submission 
to his Holiness, and was about to obtain the papal 
investiture. 

It is incontestable, that a certain tribute has 
always been paid annually by the King to the Pope. 
The Pope receives this as an acknowledgment of 
his feudal superiority ; the King would fain consider 
it as a charitable contribution of Peter's Pence. 
The question is still left open, and here the matter 
rests. 

In another branch of the dispute, the King has 
gained his point, and established his claim to appoint 
his own Bishops ; — subject to the papal confir- 
mation. 

The King of Naples is the oldest reigning sove- 
reign in Europe, having ascended the throne in 
1759. Though a devotee in religion, he is so fond 
of field-sports that he cannot give up the pleasures 
of the chasse for a single day; and he has actually 
obtained a dispensation from the Pope to permit 
him to shoot on Sundays ! It must be remembered, 
however, in his excuse, that he is seventy and odd 
years old, and has therefore no time to lose. 

15th. Convalescence. — Crawled to the Arch- 
bishop of Tarento's — Small collection of pictures ; 
— three by Murillo excellent. 

First day of Passion week. — There is a strange 
mixture of straining and swallowing in the observ- 
ance of Lent here. The opera and the theatres have 
been open; but the ballet has been suppressed; 

o 



194 NAPLES GAMING-TABLE. [MAR. 

Dancing, it would seem, is more unholy than sing- 
ing or gambling ; for the gaming-hell, under the 
same roof with the opera, and under the sanction of 
government, has been allowed to go on without 
interruption — 

"Nodes atque dies patet atri Janua Ditis."* 

This is a very large establishment ; it hold its 
daily session in a house in the Corso ; and adjourns 
in the evening to a splendid suite of rooms in the 
upper part of the opera house. The Neapolitans 
are devoted to play, and they pursue it with a fatal 
energy, that hurries many of them to the last stage 
of the road to ruin. — The relaxation of morals, as 
you advance towards the south, is very striking. — 
I am afraid to believe all that I hear of the licen- 
tiousness of Naples ; but I see enough to make me 
think nothing impossible. 

The plain-speaking of the Neapolitan Ladies is 
truly surprising ; — they call every thing by its right 
name without any circumlocution ; — and in the re- 
lation of a story, whatever be the character of the 
incidents, there is nothing left to be collected by 
inference, but the facts are broadly and plainly told, 
with the most circumstantial details. 

16th. The gaming-table is permitted to go on 
even during the present week ; and the only restraint 
imposed upon this den of destruction is a short 
interdict, from Thursday next to Sunday ; when the 

* It ought to be recorded to the honour of the revolutionary 
government in 1820, that one of their first acts was to suppress 
those public gaming-tables. 



1818.] NAPLES GAMING-TABLE. 195 

doors will be re-opened. Strange infatuation ! that 
men should thus devotedly pursue a fancied good 
by means which — occupying all their time and 
absorbing all their interest — must take away the 
power of profiting by its acquisition : 

— et propter nummos, nummorum perdere causas — • 
for it almost universally happens, that the means at 
last become the end ; — money being seldom, I 
believe, the object of any but the selfish, calculating 
gamester. The true children of play are delighted 
with the pursuit, and care as little for the object, as 
the sportsman does for the fox. — They find, in the 
vicissitudes of play, that strong excitement of the 
soul, which furnishes a constant succession of deep 
and agitating emotions. There are minds so un- 
happily constituted, that, to them, the innocent and 
peaceful pleasures of tranquil security are as insipid 
and disgusting, as milk and water would be to the 
lover of brandy. Ennui is too light a term for that 
heaviness of spirit, and weariness of soul, which find 
all the uses of the world stale, flat, and unprofitable. 
The stagnant puddle of existence then must be 
stirred and freshened, by the torrent, tempest, and 
whirlwind of the passions ; and this stimulant is 
sought in the dangers of war, the fever of ambition, 
or the hopes and fears of love. But love, and war, 
and ambition, are not within the reach of all ; — 
while the gaming-table is ever at hand. The passion 
for play is universal, and seems to have its root in 
the very heart of man ; — no rank, or age, or sex, is 
exempt from its influence. The silken baron of 
civilization, and the naked savage of the desert, 

o 2 



196 NAPLES GAMING-TABLE. [MAR. 

show how nearly they are related, in the common 
eagerness with which they fly to gaming, for relief 
from the same tcedium vitce, the same oppressive 
void of occupation, which is of all voids, that which 
nature — at least human nature — abhors the most. 

I was a witness, this morning, of the effect of the 
procession of the Host upon these orgies. At the 
sound of the bell — the groom-porter suspended the 
work of dealing ; — and there was a half-solemn, 
half-sneering pause, till the bell was out of hearing. 
All England would exclaim against the govern- 
ment that could be accessary to the corruption of 
the morals of its subjects, by the encouragement of 
gaming-tables, for the sake of the revenues derived 
from such unhallowed practices ; but there are too 
many of us, who cannot, because they will not, see, 
that evils of the same kind — though it is to be hoped 
in a less degree — are produced by our own system 
of state lotteries. 

17th. At this pious season, the strangest dra- 
matic representations are prepared for the edification 
of the people. — There is no disputing about taste ; 
— if a man, in London, were to get up a puppet- 
show, to represent the ministry, passion, crucifixion, 
and ascension of the Saviour, he would probably 
receive an intimation, the next day, from the At- 
tornev-general, and have to defend himself against 
a charge of blasphemy. All this however I saw 
this morning for three half-pence, very fairly repre- 
sented in a theatre on the quay, by puppets of three 
feet high, to a crowded and admiring audience. 
The opposition theatre held out the temptation of a 



1818.] NAPLES BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 197 

grand spectacle — representing Lord Exmouth's 
exploits at Algiers ; but I ought to record, that the 
sacred piece seemed to be the most attractive. 

The quay of Naples affords a scene, such as I 
think can scarcely be equalled in the world. Torn 
Fool is there in all his glory — with such a motley 
train at his heels, and with such a chorus of noise 
and nonsense — wit and waggery — fun and foolery 
— all around him; that, however a man may be 
disgusted at first, the effect in the end is like that of 
Munden's face in a stupid farce — where that admi- 
rable actor condescends to buffoonery, to save the 
author of his piece ; you are constrained to laugh in 
spite of yourself. 

18th. Spring has once more returned in good 
earnest. Visited the Albergo dei Poveri ; a sort of 
Foundling Hospital, and House of Industry. Here 
we saw 1500 men and boys; and about as many 
women and girls. From whence we drove to the 
Campo Santo — the great Golgotha of Naples. It is 
situated on a rising ground behind the town, about 
a mile and a-half from the gate. Within its walls 
are 365 caverns ; one is opened every day for the 
reception of the dead, the great mass of whom, as 
soon as the rites of religion have been performed, 
are brought here for sepulture. There were fifteen 
cast in, while we were there ; men, women, and 
children — without a rag to cover them; literally 
fulfilling the words of scripture : — " As he came 
forth out of his mother's womb, naked shall he 
return, to go as he came !" I looked down into 
this frightful charnel-house ; — it was a shocking 



198 NAPLES CATHOLIC CEREMONIALS. [MAR. 

sight — a mass of blood and garbage ; — for many of 
the bodies had been opened at the hospitals. Cock- 
roaches, and other reptiles, were crawling about in 
all their glory. " We fat all creatures else to fat us, 
and we fat ourselves for maggots : that's the end !" 

We made the sexton of this dreary abode, who, 
by the way, had been employed in this daily work 
for eleven years, open the stone of the next day's 
grave, which had been sealed up for a year. The 
flesh was entirely gone ; for, in such a fermenting 
mass, the work of corruption must go on swim- 
mingly. Quick-lime is added to hasten the process, 
and nothing seemed to remain but a dry heap of 
bones and skulls. What must be the feelings of 
those, who can suffer the remains of a Friend, a 
Sister, a Mother, or a Wife, to be thus disposed of? 
Indifferent as I feel to the posthumous fate of my 
own remains, Heaven grant that I may at least rest 
and rot alone ; — without being mixed up in so 
horrible a human hash as this ! 

There were some women saying Ave Marias, 
within the square, for the departed souls of their 
friends ; but our arrival took them from this pious 
work, and set them upon some calculations — con- 
nected with us, and our carriage, and the number of 
it — to direct them in the selection of lucky numbers 
in the lottery, upon their return to Naples ! 

19th. The king waited upon a company of 
beggars at their meal ; and afterwards washed their 
feet. This day is observed with the greatest solem- 
nity. No carriages have been allowed to move about 
the streets. All the higher classes have put on 



1818.] NAPLES CATHOLIC CEREMONIALS. 199 

mourning, and the soldiers have paraded, with arms 
reversed, and muffled drums. In the evening, the 
king, attended by his whole court, walked in pro- 
cession, bareheaded, through the Toledo; visiting 
the churches in his route, and kneeling before the 
images of the Virgin, who, on this occasion, is 
dressed in deep mourning. 

20th. Good Friday. — Continuation of the 
mourning of yesterday. — It must be confessed that 
there is much more of religious observance in Ca- 
tholic, than in Protestant countries. Then comes 
the question, to what extent is it wholesome to en- 
courage these outward observances ? If too much 
importance be given to them, there is danger that 
religion will stop there, and degenerate into a mere 
homage of rites and ceremonies, in the place of 
that homage of our hearts and lives, which the 
Christian religion requires of us. And this is the 
objection which we make against the Catholics. 
Again, if there be no attention paid to forms, there 
is danger that the substance may be lost sight of : 
and that a religion without any rites, will soon 
become no religion at all ; and this, I apprehend, is 
the objection that the Catholics make against the 
Protestants. Both sides agree that some ceremo- 
nial is necessary, and it is only a question of degree 
between them after all. In determining this ques- 
tion of degree, it is not easy to lay down a rule that 
would be universally applicable, for it must vary 
with the different characters and habits of different 
nations ; and perhaps climate would not be without 
its influence, in regulating the standard of propriety. 



200 NAPLES PORTICI MUSEUM. [MAR. 

For example, the natives of the south seem to have 
an intuitive love of show and spectacle, which forms 
a strong contrast with the plain and simple habi- 
tudes of the northern nations. And this considera- 
tion ought perhaps to have made me more tolerant 
in my remarks on Catholic ceremonies abroad; — for 
I believe that they may be less characteristic of the 
religion itself, than of the taste of the people. 

21st. The Paschal Lamb, which I have observed 
in many of the houses, as a sort of pet during Lent, 
appears no more. The knife is at work for to- 
morrow's feast. 

Drove to Portici. — The museum consists princi- 
pally of specimens of the paintings found at Pom- 
peii. These remains are very interesting, as illus- 
trative of the state of the art amongst the Romans; 
but it would be ridiculous to take the paintings on 
the walls of the houses of a provincial town as the 
standard of their skill. 

It is fair to suppose, that the taste of the ancients 
was as refined and fastidious in painting, as in the 
sister art of sculpture ; and that the praises which 
they have lavished upon Zeuxis and Apelles, 
would have been supported by their works, if these 
works had come down to us. 

All traces of these great masters are lost; but, we 
know some of the most admired pieces of the latter 
were brought by Augustus to Rome ; and Pliny's 
descriptions, which do remain, seem to demonstrate 
that they must have been executed in a much 
higher style of finishing, and with a technical know- 
ledge, that will in vain be sought in the painted 



1818.] NAPLES MURAT, 201 

walls of Herculaneum and Pompeii. Many of 
these, however, are designed with great taste, grace, 
and feeling ; and, if we suppose that the works of 
Zeuxis and Apelles were as superior to these, as 
the Last Judgment, and the School of Athens, are to 
the painted walls of a modern Italian room, we 
shall probably not form too high an estimate of the 
excellence of the great masters of ancient art. One 
of the most elegant figures in this museum, is the 
picture of a female, with a pencil and tablets in her 
hand, which they call Sappho. The story of the 
picture is often plain, as in that of Orestes, Pylades, 
and Iphigenia, in the temple of Diana. Thus, too, 
we cannot mistake the representation of a school- 
master's room, where an unhappy culprit is horsed 
on the back of one of his fellows — precisely as the 
same discipline is administered in many parts of 
England at present. 

We have also a specimen of their taste in carica- 
ture. A little delicate chariot, that might have 
been made by the fairies' coachmaker, is drawn by a 
parrot, and driven by a grasshopper. This is said to 
be a satirical representation of Nero's absurd pre- 
tensions as a Singer and a Driver; for Suetonius 
tells us he made his debut on the Neapolitan 
theatre: — " Et prodiit Neapoli primum : ibidem 
scspius et per complures cantavit dies" 

We adjourned afterwards to the royal palace, 
which was fitted up by Murat. Every thing re- 
mains in the state he left it, except that the family 
pictures of himself, and his wife, and her two 
brothers, Napoleon and Joseph, have been taken 



202 NAPLES MURAT. [MAR. 

down from their high places, and thrust into a 
garret, " amongst the common lumber." He is 
represented in a fancy dress, which is almost ridi- 
culously fantastic, with ear-rings in his ears, but, 
though a fine handsome man, I doubt whether he 
has not a little the air of Tom Errand in Beau 
Clincher's clothes. Madame Murat's room and 
adjoining bath are strikingly elegant and luxurious. 
In her dressing-room is a small library ; in which I 
observed that the majority of the books were trans- 
lations of English authors ; — Gibbon, Fielding, 
Hume, Thomson, Coxe's House of Austria, Mrs. 
Radcliffe, and a long train of novels. In Joachim's 
room, almost every article of furniture is ornamented 
with the head of his favourite Henry IV. — the 
royal model which he is said to have proposed to 
himself — but he was not fortunate enough to meet 
with a Sully for his minister ; and he lived to learn 
that the " divinity which used to hedge a King," 
was to be no protection to him, though he had won 
a crown by his valour, and worn it with the consent 
and acknowledgement of all Europe. That man 
must have the feelings of humanity strangely per- 
verted by political enmities, who can read the story 
of his ignominious death without pity. 

The leading feature in his character seems to have 
been, that gallant generous bravery so becoming a 
soldier, which he displayed on all occasions. In his 
very last retreat, he is said to have risked his life, to 
save the son of one of his nobility, who wanted the 
courage to do it himself. They were crossing the 
river, under the fire of the Austrians ; the horse of 



1818.] NAPLES MURAT. 203 

the young man was wounded, and his situation 
appeared hopeless. Joachim, moved by the distress 
of the father, plunged into the stream, and brought 
the son in safety to the bank, where the father 
had remained a helpless spectator of the whole 
transaction. But peace be to his ashes. — I am no 
advocate for the scum, to which the fermentation 
of the French Revolution has given such undue 
elevation ; but there are always exceptions ; — and 
Joachim, however he might be tainted with the 
original sin of the school in which he was bred, had 
deserved too well of mankind, by his own conduct in 
power, not to merit more compassion than he found, 
in the hour of his adversity. 

In the gardens of Portici is a Fort, built to teach 
the present King the art of fortification, during 
his childhood; and in the upper apartment is a 
curious mechanical table, which is made to furnish 
a dinner, without the attendance of domestics. 

In the centre of the table is a trap-door. The 
dinner is sent up by pullies from the kitchen below. 
Each person has six bell-handles attached to his 
place, which ring in the kitchen, inscribed with the 
articles most in request at dinner. These are hoisted 
t up by invisible agents, something after the fashion of 
| the entertainment in Beauty and the Beast ; — or to 
compare it with something less romantic, and nearer 
home, Mr. O.'s establishment at Lanark, where 
dinner is served up by steam ! A double chain, 
arranged like the ropes of a draw-well, sends up the 
xlinner on one side, and carries down the dirty plates, 
fyc. on the other. 



204 NAPLES — VESUVIUS. [MAR. 

22nd. Easter Sunday. — Grand holiday. — A feast 
at Portici, which reminded me of Greenwich fair. — 
The dress of the peasantry gaudy and glittering ; — 
crimson satin gowns, covered with tinsel. 

Excursion to Vesuvius. — My surgeon warned me 
against this ascent, hut I was resolved to go. To 
leave Naples, without seeing Vesuvius, would be 
worse than to die at Naples, after seeing Vesuvius. 
The ascent was laborious enough, but no part of the 
labour fell upon my shoulders. When we arrived at 
the foot of the perpendicular steep, where it was 
necessary to leave our mules, while my companions 
toiled up on foot, I got into an easy arm-chair, and 
was carried on the shoulders of eight stout fellows, 
to my own great astonishment, and to the greater 
amusement of my friends, who expected every mo- 
ment to see us all roll over together. I certainly 
should not have thought the thing practicable, if I 
had not tried it ; for the ascent is as steep as it is well 
possible to be ; the surface however is rugged ; and 
this enabled the men to keep their footing. It was 
not the pleasantest ride in the world ; for without 
pretending to any extraordinary sensibility, there is 
something disagreeable in overcoming difficulties by 
the sweat of other men's brows, even if they are well 
paid for it. The men, however, seemed to enjoy it 
exceedingly. 

When you arrive at the top, it is an awful sight, 
more like the infernal regions, than anything that 
human imagination could suggest. As you approach 
the great crater, the crust upon which you tread 
becomes so hot, that you cannot stand long on the 



1818.] VESUVIUS HERCULANEUM. 205 

same place — your progress is literally u per ignes 
supj)ositos cineri doloso ;" — if you push your stick 
an inch below the surface, it takes fire, and you may 
light paper by thrusting it into any of the cracks of 
the crust. The craters of the late eruption were 
still vomiting forth flames and smoke, and when we 
threw down large stones into these fiery mouths, one 
might have thought they were replying to Lear's 
imprecation — " Rumble thy belly full ! — Spitfire /" 
— Altogether, it was a most sublime and impressive 
scene, and may be classed amongst the very few 
things in the world that do not disappoint ex- 
pectation. 

The look down, into the great crater at the sum- 
mit, is frightfully grand ; and when you turn away 
from the contemplation of this fearful abyss, you are 
presented with the most forcible contrast, in the rich 
and luxuriant prospect of Naples, and the surround- 
ing country ; where all is soft and smiling as far as 
the eye can see. 

In our way home we explored Herculaneum; 
which scarcely repays the labour. This town is 
filled up with lava, and with a cement caused by the 
large mixture of water, with the shower of earth and 
ashes that destroyed it ; and it is choked up, as com- 
pletely as if molten lead had been poured into it. 
Here, therefore, the work of excavation was so labo- 
rious, that all which could be done has been to cut a 
few passages. Besides, it is forty feet below the 
surface, and another town is now built over it ; so 
that you grope about under ground by torch light, 
and see nothing. 



206 NAPLES LAZZARONI. [>1AR. 

Pompeii, on the contrary, was destroyed by a 
shower of cinders, in which there was a much less 
quantity of water. It lay, for centuries, only twelve 
feet below the surface; and these cinders being 
easily removed, the town has been again restored to 
the light of day. 

In the evening the Theatre of S. Carlo re-opened 
with a new opera, and a splendid ballet. 

23rd. The finest-looking men in Naples are the 
Lazzaroni ; the lowest class in the order of society; 
answering to the Lazzi in the old Saxon division of 
classes in our own island : " Dividebantur antiqui 
Saxones in tres or dines ; Edilingos, Filingos, et Laz- 
zos ; hoc est, nobiles, ingenuos, serviles. Restat an- 
tiques appellationis commemoratio. Ignavos enim 
lazie hodie decimus." — (Spelman.) 

But, if Lazzaroni be at all connected with lazi- 
ness, the term has little application to the bearers of 
burdens in Naples; unless it be explained in the 
same manner as lucus a non lucendo. If they are 
fond of sprawling in the sun, they are enjoying the 
holiday of repose which they have earned by their 
own industry ; and which they have a right to dis- 
pose of according to their own taste. There is an 
amphibious class of these fellows, who seem to live in 
the water. I have stood watching a boat for hours, 
which I had at first imagined was adrift without an 
owner ; to which one of these fishermen would occa- 
sionally mount out of the water with an oyster, and 
then, down he went again, in search of another. 

They appear to be a merry joyous race, with a 
keen relish for drollery, and endued with a power of 



1818.] NAPLES TEATRO NUOVO. 207 

feature, that is shown in the richest exhibitions of 
comic grimace. Swinburne says w r ell, that Hogarth 
ought to have visited Naples, to have beheld the 
" sublime of caricature" 

I know few sights more ludicrous, than that 
which may be enjoyed by treating a Lazzarone 
to as many yards of macaroni as he can contrive 
to slide down his throat without breaking its 
continuity. 

Their dexterity is almost equal to that of the In- 
dian Jugglers, and much more entertaining. 

24th. In ascending the scale of society, we do not 
find progressive improvement in information, as we 
mount to the top. 

The ignorance of the higher classes has long been 
proverbial. Murat had instituted a female school of 
education, on a large scale, which was well attended 
by the principal families in Naples ; and a taste for 
knowledge was beginning to spread very rapidly ; — 
but Murat is dead ! The most thriving profession 
is the law; — and almost every tenth man is a 
lawyer. 

25th. Went in the evening to the Teatro Nuovo, 
where Italian tragedies and comedies are performed ; 
and which is attended, particularly by the younger 
classes of the Neapolitans, as a school of pronun- 
ciation, and a lesson in language. Nothing can be 
more barbarous than the Neapolitan dialect. There 
was but little of vis comic a in the performance ; and 
indeed the piece was a suspirious, lacrymose, white- 
handkerchief business, translated from a sentimental 
German comedv. 



208 NAPLES RUINS. [MAR. 

The rustic, who seems to be the same — at least in 
the stage representation of the character — all the 
world over, was well done, and reminded me of 
Emery. 

26th. Intended excursion to Psestum. Prevented 
by a fresh attack of pleurisy. Perhaps there is no 
great cause for regret ; for, however fine the ruins 
may be, there is no story of the olden time to 
make them particularly interesting. If ruins are 
sought out as mere objects to please the eye, I doubt 
if there be any thing in Italy that could be put in 
comparison with Tintern Abbey. But it is the deeds 
that have been done, and the men that did them — 
the Scipios, and the Catos, and the Brutuses — that 
invest the ruins of Rome with their great charm and 
interest. Independently of these recollections, there 
is perhaps nothing to be seen in Italy so beau- 
tiful as the light, elegant, and graceful ruins of a 
Gothic Abbey. 

This associating principle seems to operate, and 
give an interest, even to places where the adventures 
which make them memorable are notoriously ficti- 
tious ; for to no other cause can I attribute the 
pains I have taken to identify the scenery of the 
Italian ; and I experienced serious disappointment 
at being unable to find the ruined archway in which 
Vivaldi was intercepted by the mysterious monk, in 
his visits to the villa of Signora Bianca ; — which had 
probably never any existence except in the imagina- 
tion of Mrs. RadclifFe. 

The vicissitudes of the weather here are beyond 
every thing I have ever felt. During Easter week, 



1818.] NAPLES— OPERA. 209 

it was intensely hot. On the 28th of March, Vesu- 
vius was covered with snow, and the four succeeding 
days have been as cold and comfortless as wind, 
sleet, and hail, could make them. 

April 2nd. Convalescence. Visited the opera for 
the first time. Of all the stupid things in the world, 
a serious opera is perhaps the most stupid, and the 
opera of to-night formed no exception to this 
observation. The theatre is, I believe, the largest 
in Europe, and it is certainly too large for the 
singers, whose voices sound like penny trumpets on 
Salisbury Plain.* 

* It ought to excite little wonder, that there are so few good 
singers in Italy ; for she is unable, from her poverty, to retain 
those whom she has herself formed. As soon as they become 
eminent, they are enticed away to foreign countries, and often 
return to Italy, after years of absence, enriched with the spoils 
of half the provinces of Europe. Besides, the Italians of the 
present day have no taste for the higher kinds of music, — for 
full and grand harmonies, — or for instrumental music in 
general. If you talk to them of Haydn, Mozart, or Beethoven, 
they shrug up their shoulders, and tell you — " E Micsica 
Tedesca, — non ci abbiamo gusto.'' Cherubini, their only really 
great composer, might perhaps be cited as an exception, — but 
he is in fact a most striking confirmation of their want of 
taste ; — for his works are almost unknown, and he seems to be 
himself aware of the inability of his countrymen to appreciate 
his merits, by residing at a distance, and composing for foreign 
theatres. What the Italians like, is an easy flowing melody, 
unincumbered, as they would call it, with too much harmony. 
Whatever Corinne may say to the contrary, they seem to have 
little or no relish for impassioned music. Take an example of 
the taste of the times from the Opera of to-night — Armida — 
the composition of their favourite Rossini. His operas are 

P 



210 NAPLES OPERA. , [APR. 

The pit contained 674 elbowed seats, in 19 
rows; and there is standing room for at least 150 
persons. 

The ballet of Gengis Khan was splendidly got up. 
The dancing was admirable, for though excellence 
must necessarily be confined to a few, all were 
good. These spectacles are better managed here 
than in England. I am afraid there is always 
something lumpish and awkward in the general 
effect of our corps de ballet ; but here the groups 
are so picturesque, their motions so graceful, there 
is such a general expertness in the most complicated 
movements of the dance, and such a lightness and 

always easy and flowing ; — abounding in prettinesses and melt- 
ing cadenzas, but he never reaches, nor apparently does he 
attempt to reach, the sustained and elevated character which 
distinguishes the music of Mozart. But Rossini's works ought 
not to be too severely criticised ; for the continual demand 
for new music is greater than any fertility of head could supply. 
The Italians never like to go back ;— without referring so far 
as their own great Corelli — Cimarosa, Paisiello, and others of 
equally recent date, are already become antiquated ; and as 
Rossini is almost their only composer, he is obliged to write an 
opera in the interval of a few weeks, between the bringing out 
of the last, and its being laid on the shelf. 

It is a sad tantalizing thing to hear music in Italy which you 
may wish to carry away with you ; for they have no printed 
music ! — This alone is sufficient to indicate the low state of the 
art. From Naples to Milan, I believe, there is no such artist 
as an Engraver of Music, and you never see a Music shop. 
You must therefore go without it, or employ a Copier, whose 
trade is regulated by the most approved cheating rules. He 
charges you according to the quantity of paper written on, and 
therefore takes care not to write too closely. 



1818.] NAPLES OPERA. 211 

perpetual motion in all the figures, that the whole 
spectacle has the effect of phantasmagoria. 

3rd. The ex-king of Spain arrived, accompanied 
by his brother the present king of Naples, who had 
gone to Mola di Gaeta, to meet him. It is said 
that they now met for the first time after a separa- 
tion of sixty years. 



v2 



212 [APR. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Returned to Rome — Criminal guillotined — Tivoli — Claude 
Lorraine — Roman Politics — Computation of Time — 
Preachers — Music — Paganini — Departure from Rome — 
Falls of Terni — Return to Florence. 

April 5th. Left Naples in a fit of spleen and 
disgust at the continued inclemency of the weather, 
and slept at Capua ; where we found none of those 
seducing luxuries which enervated the soldiers of 
Hannibal. 

6th. This day's journey brought us to Velletri. 
It was nearly dark when we left Terracina to pass 
over the Pontine Marshes. During the last stage, 
our postilion was constantly stopping, upon some 
pretence of the harness wanting repairs ; at other 
times he pleaded that his horses were knocked up, 
and could not go beyond a foot's pace, on which 
occasion he would set up a loud song. All this was 
so like the common prologue to a robbery scene in 
romance, that we suspected the fellow must be a 
confederate with the banditti. At last we lost all 
patience — my companion produced his pistols, and 
swore that the next time he relaxed from a trot, he 
would blow out his brains. This seemed to have its 
effect, and we rattled on to Velletri without clearing 
up the mystery. 

7th. Reached Rome to breakfast. — Went to bed 
in a high fever. — Summoned a Roman surgeon to 



1818.] CANOVA AND THORWALDSON. 213 

open a vein, which he did very tolerably ; but their 
practice is much more timid than our own, for as 
soon as he had taken a large thimbleful of blood, 
he was for binding up the arm again, and protested, 
in the most urgent manner, against the madness 
of my proceeding when he saw me determined to 
lose ten ounces. 

11th. Emerged from the confinement of a sick 
room, to enjoy again the genial air of Rome. How 
delightful is the calm tranquillity of this fallen 
capital, after the din and clatter of Naples ! There 
is something so soft and balmy in the air, that I 
feel every mouthful revive and invigorate me ; — and 
it is now as warm as midsummer in England. 

Went to the church of S. Maria del Popolo, 
where there is a great curiosity in sculpture ; — a 
statue by Raphael. It is Jonas, in the moment of 
his deliverance from the jaws of the great Leviathan 
of the Deep. The figure is beautifully elegant, and 
displays the same delicate skill in outline, for which 
Raphael is so distinguished in his pictures. It is 
doubted whether Lorenzetto executed this statue 
from Raphael's design, or whether it received the 
finishing strokes from Raphael himself. As no other 
works of Lorenzetto display the same powers, it is 
fair to suppose the latter ; and indeed there is a 
masterly touch in the expression, that seems in itself 
sufficient to decide the question. 

12th. Passed the morning in the Stuclj of 
Canova and Thorwaldson. — Confirmed in my former 
opinions of their respective merits. — A statue of 
Washington, for the United States, just moulded by 



214 ROME PUBLIC EXECUTION. [APR. 

Canova ; — in which there is the same want of repose 
and simplicity, that is so often observable in his 
works. Thorwaldson had just finished the model 
of a Mercury, putting Argus to sleep with his 
pipe ; a figure of exquisite grace, archness, and 
spirit — ^the veritable son of Maia. 

Some traces of antiquity are continually meeting 
you in your walks through Rome ; for instance, the 
white robes of the modern Italian Butchers which, 
considering their occupation, are strikingly neat — 
seem to be the cast off dresses of the priests who 
performed the act of sacrifice. 

13th. An execution in the Piazza del Popolo. 
The culprit was a " Fellow with a horrid face," 
who had murdered his father. The murder was 
detected in a singular manner, affording an extra- 
ordinary instance of the sagacity and faithful at- 
tachment of the dog to his master. The disap- 
pearance of the deceased had given rise to inquiry, 
and the officers of police went to his cottage, where, 
on examining his son, they learned that his father 
had gone out to work as usual, a few days before, 
and had not been seen since. As the officers were 
continuing their search in the neighbourhood, their 
attention was excited by observing a dog lying in a 
lone place ; who seemed to endeavour to attract 
their notice, by scratching on some newly-turned 
earth. Their curiosity was excited, by something 
peculiar in his action and manner, to examine the 
spot : — where they found the body. It would seem 
that the dog must have been an unobserved witness 
of his master's murder, and had not forsaken his 



1S18.] ROME PUBLIC EXECUTION. 215 

grave. On returning to the cottage with the body, 
the son was so struck with the discovery made by 
the officers by means which he could not divine, 
that, concluding it must have been by supernatural 
intimation, he made a full confession of his guilt ; 
— that he had beaten out his father's brains with a 
mallet, at the instigation of his mother ; that he 
had dragged him to this by-place, and there buried 
him. The mother was condemned to imprisonment 
for life ; — the son to the guillotine. He kept us 
waiting from ten o'clock till almost three ; for the 
execution is delayed till the culprit is brought to a 
due state of penitence. 

At last the bell rang, the Host was brought from 
a neighbouring church that he might receive the 
last sacrament ; and soon afterwards the criminal 
was led out. Inglese was a passport on this as on 
other occasions. The guards that formed in a 
square round the guillotine, made way for me to 
pass ; and I was introduced, almost against my will, 
close to the scaffold. 

A crucifix and a black banner, with death's heads 
upon it, were borne before the culprit, who advanced 
between two priests. He mounted the scaffold 
with a firm step, and did not once flinch till he 
stooped to put his head into the groove prepared to 
receive it. 

This is the trying minute ; the rest is the affair 
of less than a moment. It appears to be the best 
of ail modes of inflicting the punishment of death ; 
combining the greatest impression on the spectator, 
with the least possible suffering to the victim. It 



216 ROME GAME OF MORRA. [APR. 

is so rapid, that I should doubt whether there were 
any suffering ; but from the expression of the coun- 
tenance when the executioner held up the head, I 
am inclined to believe that sense and consciousness 
may remain for a few seconds after the head is off. 
The eyes seemed to retain speculation for a moment 
or two, and there was a look in the ghastly stare 
with which they glared upon the crowd, which 
implied that the head was aware of its ignominious 
situation. And indeed there is nothing improbable 
in this supposition ; for in all injuries of the spine 
whereby a communication with the sensorium is cut 
off, it is the parts below the injury which are de- 
prived of sensation, while those above retain their 
sensibility. And so, in the case of decapitation, the 
nerves of the face and eyes may for a short time 
continue to convey impressions to the brain, in 
spite of the separation from the trunk. 

14th. Mgina Marbles; — these belong to an 
earlier age of sculpture than that of Phidias, and 
are curious specimens of the infancy of the art 
amongst the Greeks. 

The symmetry is very defective ; and there is a 
sort of sardonic smile in the expression of all the 
faces that is unintelligible, without knowing the 
history of the group. 

Amongst the amusements of the people there is 
nothing more striking than the energy and interest 
which they exhibit in the common game of Morra. 

This game is played by two persons ; they both 
hold out their right hands, with the fingers ex- 
tended ; then, each contracts or shuts one, or as 



1818.] EXCURSION TO TIVOLI. 217 

many of his fingers as he pleases; calling out at 
the same time the number which he guesses will be 
the whole amount of his own and his adversary's 
contracted fingers ; this they both do, at the same 
moment, and very rapidly. Whichever guesses 
rightly, scores one, which is done by holding out 
one finger of the left hand ; — the game may be five 
or ten, or more, at pleasure. 

The vivacity with which they pursue this game is 
extraordinary. As may be supposed, from the na- 
ture of the game, it often creates disputes and 
quarrels, and in the days when every man carried 
his stiletto, these quarrels but too often ended in 
blood. 

15th to 20th. There is now scarcely a stranger 
in Rome. The ceremonies of Easter being over, all 
the world is gone to Naples ; and the best lodgings 
are now to be had for half the price that would have 
been asked two months ago. 

Accidentally encountered some old friends and 
school-fellows. What a delightful thing it is to 
laugh and talk over the almost forgotten days of 
boyhood ; when all was fun and frolic. For a 
moment, one escapes from the present to the past, 
and becomes a boy over again. 

22nd. Excursion to Tivoli. — We rose before the 
sun, and reached Tivoli to breakfast. — The morning 
was beautiful — and the morning is the spring of the 
day, when all nature is fresh and joyous, and man is 
fresh to enjoy it. It is the custom of the Cicerone 
to lead you a long round of some miles, to see the 
cascatelle, and other things which are not worth 



218 CLAUDE LORRAINE. [APR. 

seeing; and I regretted that I had not rather re- 
mained the whole morning in the charming en- 
virons of the temple of Vesta. 

The great cascade is artificial — the work of Ber- 
nini ; but I prefer much the natural fall which the 
waters have worked for themselves through the 
fissures of the rock; which is seen with such ad- 
mirable effect from the hollow cavern called Grotto 
of Neptune. A pretty and intricate shrubbery 
covers the precipice, through which a path has been 
cut to enable you to descend to this spot ; and I 
have seldom looked upon a scene which unites at 
once so much of the sublime and the beautiful ; — 
but I will not attempt to describe it. A cascade is 
one of those things that bids defiance to the pen or 
the pencil ; for the noise and the motion, which 
constitute, in fact, almost all that is grand and 
graceful in a real waterfall, are lost in a picture ; 
and when these are taken away, what remains — but 
an unseemly patch of white paint ? If the imagi- 
nation is to supply the loss, it might as well repre- 
sent the whole scene. 

Horace may well be justified for his partiality to 
the prccceps Anio et Tiburni lucus. It is an exqui- 
site spot ; and well calculated to suggest the idea of 
a retreat from the world, with the calm pleasures of 
a life of rural retirement : 

Tibur Argeo positum colono 
Sit mese sedes utinam senectae ! 
Sit modus lasso maris, et viarum 
Militiaeque ! 

It was in the scenery of Tivoli that Claude de- 



1818.] ROME LUNATIC ASYLUM. 219 

lighted to study nature ; and in most of his land- 
scapes there may be traced some features of the soft 
and beautiful combinations of the elements of land- 
scape, which the scenery of Tivoli affords in such 
abundance. But the pictures of Claude represent 
nature rather as she might be, than as she is. His 
pictures are poetic nature; nature abstracted from 
all local defects ; — by which I mean, that though all 
the separate features of his pictures are true to 
nature, yet that he has compounded them in a man- 
ner, to form a general whole such as will never 
be found existing together in a real landscape. Thus 
he has done in landscape what the Greek artists 
have done in sculpture, who, from the separate excel- 
lences of different individuals, have combined per- 
fect figures, far superior in grace and beauty to any 
single living model. 

23rd. Visited the Lunatic Asylum. — I should 
have been inclined to suppose, in a country where 
the natives display so much vivacity and energy 
in the ordinary and healthy state of their minds, 
that their mad-houses would have exhibited a strange 
scene of violent excitement. But I was surprised to 
find every thing calm and tranquil. There were no 
raving patients ; and only two whom it was necessary 
to confine, by a slight chain, to the wall of their 
apartment. I was much struck by the appearance 
and expression of two unfortunates labouring under 
the most opposite symptoms. — The one was a cap- 
tain in the army, who had been driven mad by jea- 
lousy. — He was walking up and down a long room, 
with a quick and agitated step, and, I was told, he 



220 ROMAN POLITICS. [APR. 

had been occupied in the same way for ten years ; 
except during the few hours of sleep. He seemed to 
be suffering the pains of the damned, as they have 
been described to proceed from the worm that never 
dieth. The other was a melancholy maniac, lying 
in the sun ; so utterly lost in vacancy, that I endea- 
voured in vain to rouse him from his reverie. He 
had a cast of countenance so cynic, that he might 
have furnished a painter with an admirable study for 
a Diogenes. 

24th. The politicians of Rome look to the future 
with gloomy apprehension. The general opinion 
seems to be, that the temporal power of the Pope 
will end with Pius VII. ; and that Austria will lay 
her paw upon the ecclesiastical dominions. 

Connected as the House of Austria is with the 
reigning families of Tuscany and Naples, such an 
attempt might have little opposition to fear in the 
rest of Italy ; and indeed as to the Papal States, even 
if there were any national feeling to keep them to- 
gether, which I believe there is not, the people seem 
too much disposed to rely upon the interposition of 
miraculous assistance from above, to do any thing for 
themselves. 

When the French were advancing in 1798 — how 
was it that the Papal Government prepared to resist 
them ? By a levy en masse ? No — but by a pro- 
cession of three of the most sacred relics in the pos- 
session of the church. — These relics were — // Santo 
Volto, a miraculous portrait of the Saviour ; — and a 
Santa 3Iaria, a portrait of the Virgin, supposed also 
to be painted by supernatural agency ; — and the 



1818.] ROME ITALIAN SUPERSTITION. 221 

chains which St. Peter wore in prison, from which 
the angel liberated him. 

This procession was attended by nearly the whole 
population of Rome, comprehending all ranks and 
ages and sexes, the greater part of them bare-footed. 
— Satisfied with this, they remained in a state of in- 
activity, in the hope that Heaven would interpose in 
their favour, by some miraculous manifestation of 
its power. Such is ever the effect of superstition, 
which substitutes rites for duties, and teaches men to 
build their hopes of divine favour upon any other 
rather than the only true and rational foundation of 
such hopes — the faithful and exemplary discharge of 
their own duties. 

The Italians now make a triumphant appeal to the 
late restoration of the Pope, as a visible interference 
of Providence, which ought to convince a heretic 
that it is decreed by the counsels of Heaven, that the 
Pope shall endure for ever ; and they hail this return 
as an omen and security for the same miraculous 
assistance in the time to come, forgetting the ad- 
mirable doctrine of the Trojan patriot, 

E/£ oluvo; cc^i^o;, ufjcvviff&at trig) rtdro'/is ! 

In the evening went to the theatre. — An Italian 
comedy, or rather a German play, translated into 
Italian. — German sentiment seems to please all the 
world, in spite of its stupidity ; else, why do we all 
pilfer from Kotzebue? Vestris, the great comic 
actor of Italy, played the part of a valet, with con- 
siderable archness and humour ; but he is a " tun of * 
man;" and a fat man is fit to act nothing but a fat 



222 ROME GAME OF POLLONE. [APR. 

man ; — for perhaps there is no character but Fal- 
staff, of which fat is an essential attribute. But, 
when I speak slightingly of Vestris, I forget his 
Tale-bearer in the Bottega di Cafe, and his Burbero 
benejico ; — both admirable pieces of acting. 

25th. I looked on this morning at a game at 
Pallone. This is a great improvement upon our 
fives. It is played by parties of a certain number on 
each side, generally six against six. The pallone is 
a ball filled with air, about as big as a foot-ball. 
The players wear a sort of wooden guard, called 
Bracciale, into which the right hand is introduced; 
this instrument, which is in shape not unlike a muff, 
reaches half way up to the elbow, and is studded 
with sharp wooden points. The player, grasping 
firmly a bar fixed in the inside of the Bracciale, to 
keep it steady, takes the ball before the bound, and 
vollies it, according to the tennis term, with amazing 
force. The object of the players is to prevent 
the ball falling within their lines. The weight of 
the Bracciale, placed as it is at the extremity of the 
arm, must require great muscular strength to sup- 
port it, during a long game. It is a truly athletic 
exercise, and though it is said to be the ancient follis 
of the Homans, it must have undergone some alter- 
ation ; — for the line, 

a Folle decet pueros ludere, folle senes " 

has no application to the modern game of the 
Pallone. 

Joined Lucien Buonaparte's domestic circle in 
the evening. 



1818.] ROME COMPUTATION OF TIME. 223 

26th. Nothing is more perplexing in Italy, than 
the computation of time. It is pity that the Italians 
will not reckon their hours in the same manner 
with their neighbours. The ancient Romans divided 
the day into twenty-four hours. Twelve of these, 
from the rising to the setting of the sun, composed 
their day, and the other twelve, from sunset till sun- 
rise, made up the night. Hence, as the seasons 
changed, there must have been a proportionate vari- 
ation in the length of their hours. They had, how- 
ever, two fixed points ; midday and midnight, which 
they called the sixth hour. 

The modern division of the Italians differs from 
this ; they divide the day and night into twenty-four 
hours, which are all of an equal length, in every 
season of the year. 

Perhaps it may be more simple to reckon twenty- 
four hours in one series, than by our double series of 
twelve and twelve. 

But the perplexity arises from their not beginning 
to reckon from some fixed point, that shall not vary ; 
as, for instance, from twelve o'clock at noon — when 
the sun crosses the meridian every day in the. year. 
The Italians call half an hour after sunset the 
twenty-fourth hour; and an hour and a half after 
sunset, the first hour, or one o'clock. Hence the 
nominal hour of midday constantly changes with 
the season ; in June it is sixteen, and in December 
nineteen o'clock, 

27th. I ought to say something of the pulpit 
eloquence of Italy, of which I have heard many 
specimens both here and at Naples. Lent is 



224 ROME ITALIAN PREACHING. [APR. 

the great season of preaching. — There is scarcely 
a day, during that period, when you will not find 
some listening congregation, and on Wednesdays 
and Fridays, all the principal churches are crowded. 
At the Church of the Capuchins near the Piazza 
Barberini, there is a preacher who delivers his dis- 
courses with the most graceful action — not thea- 
trical hut appropriate — studied no doubt, but so 
studied as to remove all appearance of constraint ; — 
no abruptness — no distortion — but every motion 
elegant and flowing, like the language it accom- 
panied. At the church of the Jesuits also, there is 
an excellent preacher for the middle and lower 
classes — plain, earnest, and affectionate — just what 
we should desire in a parish priest in England. His 
sermons are practical, and his favourite topic repent- 
ance, which he enforces in the most powerful man- 
ner, though he is too fond of illustrating by examples 
taken from the Madonna and the Apocryphal Saints. 
But let me attempt a sketch of the great Preacher 
of all — the Fr ate Paciftco — a Franciscan. Pacifico 
is a ruddy, robust, portly man, with a physiognomy 
denoting good sense and strength of intellect ; and a 
voice, sonorous, flexible, and commanding. His 
manner is earnest, even to vehemence, but wanting 
that tenderness of appeal, which is the most winning 
talent of a Preacher. He is most successful in the 
use of indignation, or irony, of which latter weapon 
perhaps he is too fond ; — dramatising the sinner's 
part, with a humour peculiar to himself. He car- 
ries this often to the verge, and sometimes beyond 
the verge, of the ridiculous ; — but then, recovering 



181 S = ] ROME ITALIAN PREACHING. 225 

himself in a moment with admirable address, he will 
fulminate in a dignified and terrific strain, that 
strikes conviction to the hearts of his hearers. Like 
most other extempore preachers, however, he does 
not know when to have done, and seldom concludes 
till he has exhausted himself, as well as his subject. 
What this exhaustion must be, cannot be estimated 
without remembering" that Pacifico preaches in the 
climate of Rome, dressed in the coarse Fransciscan 
habit — which does not comprehend the luxury of a 
shirt. 

I was astonished at the fearless freedom with 
which he treated his audience, careless whom he 
might offend, in a late sermon ; the leading drift of 
which was, the utter worthlessness of mere cere- 
monies, and the hypocrisy and folly of placing our 
reliance, or endeavouring to make others place re- 
liance on a scrupulous, pharisaical observance of 
outward devotional acts; — and all this in the pre- 
sence of sundry Cardinals ! 

There is no one to whom I could compare him, 
amongst our own preachers — except perhaps Dr. 
Chalmers — of whom he reminds me by his devoted 
earnestness, his entire absorption in his subject, and 
the fertility of his invention: — but he has not 
Chalmers's splendour of language or variety of illus- 
tration — his learning being apparently confined to 
his own profession. But then, his voice, with its 
deep rich double-bass, makes up for these de- 
ficiencies. 

In a country where there is so much preaching, 
and where almost all preaching is extempore, or at 

Q 



226 ROME TREATMENT OF ROBBERS. [APR. 

least memoriter, there must necessarily be many bad 
preachers — but there are scarcely any drawlers ; 
there is nonsense enough, but not that lifeless, dull 
monotony of topic, style, and voice, which so often 
sets our own congregations to sleep. Some of them, 
particularly at Naples, are very ridiculous, from the 
vehemence of their gesticulations ; and there is 
always a crucifix in the pulpit, which often leads to 
the introduction of a dramatic style. There is a 
practice, too, common to all, which at first is apt 
to excite a smile. The Preacher pronounces the 
sacred name without any particular observance, but 
as often as he has occasion to mention la santissima 
Madonna, he whips off his little scull-cap, with an 
air that has as much the appearance of politeness as 
of reverence. But lest my preaching article should 
grow into a Sermon, I conclude it abruptly — as 
most of the Italian Preachers do their sermons — 
who hurry down the stairs of the pulpit, without 
doxology, prayer, or blessing. 

28th. Visited again and again the relics* of 
" Almighty Rome." At this delightful season you 
are tempted to pass the whole night in wandering 
among the ruins, which make a more solemn im- 
pression than when lighted up by the " garish eye" 

* It is a remarkable circumstance that the whole Palatine 
Hill is now, with the exception of one small portion, in the pos- 
session of the English, — of that people whom the Romans used 
contemptuously to designate as " penitus toto divisos orbe 
Britannos." Sir W. G. has purchased the Villa Spada, with a 
large tract of garden and vineyard, and almost all the remain- 
der is the property of the English College. 



1818.] ROME SERENADING. 227 

of day. I have never encountered any obstruction 
in these midnight rambles, nor seen any robbers, 
except the other evening, in the castle of St. Angelo. 
I had ascended to the roof to enjoy the view, when I 
observed a party drinking wine on the leads, who very 
courteously invited me to partake of their good cheer. 
I found that these fellows were the leaders of a gang 
of robbers, for whose apprehension a large reward 
had been offered. As the robbing trade was be- 
coming slack, they hit upon the ingenious expedient 
of surrendering themselves, in order to obtain it ; 
and it is not a little extraordinary that the Govern- 
ment should have consented to these terms, so that 
these fellows will, after a confinement of a year in the 
castle of St. Angelo, be let loose again upon society. 
In the mean time, they seem to live pleasantly 
enough ; the English go and talk to them about the 
particulars of their robberies, and I am told that one 
of our countrywomen has made them a handsome 
present. This is a strange mode of putting down 
robbers, but, if it were not to see strange things, who 
would be at the pains of travelling — for, after all, I 
believe Madame de Stael is right when she calls it 
a " triste plaisir." 

29th. Amongst the charms of an Italian evening, 
I ought to mention the street-singing and sere- 
nading. That has happened to music in Italy, 
which happens to language and style, to poetry and 
painting, and indeed to every thing else in this 
world. When a certain point of perfection has 
been attained, the progress afterwards is in a con- 
trarv direction ; and a corruption of taste is introduced 

Q2 



228 ROME SERENADING. [APR. 

by the very attempt to pursue improvement beyond 
that line, which limits all human exertion by the ir- 
reversible fiat; — " thus far shalt thou go, and no 
farther." But though music must be considered as 
on the decline in Italy, there is, notwithstanding, a 
general diffusion of musical taste and musical talent, 
extending to the lowest ranks. I have often set my 
window open at night to listen to the " dying falls " 
of a favourite air, distributed into parts, and sung by 
a party of mechanics returning home from their 
work, with a degree of skill and science that would 
not have disgraced professional performers. The 
serenade is a compliment of gallantry, by no means 
confined to the rich. It is customary for a lover, 
even of the lowest class, to. haunt the dwelling of his 
mistress chanting a rondo, or roundelay, during the 
period of his courtship. 

One of these swains infested our neighbourhood, 
and my Italian master * caught the words, which 
were pretty enough; though as he says is generally 
the case, they are not reducible to the rules of 
Syntax;— 

" Fiori d' argento 

Che per amare a voi 

Ci ho pianto tanto 

Poveri pianii miei 

Gettati al vento." 

* I am sure every stranger going to Rome will thank me for 
pointing out to his notice Signor Armellini; — a man whose 
mind is richly stored with the treasures of ancient and modem 
literature, and of such pleasing manners, and such variety of 
information, that the study of a grammar, which is usually an 
irksome task, becomes, in his hands, an agreeable recreation. 



1818.] rome — paganini. 229 

In saying " that the Italians have no taste for in- 
strumental music in general," I do not mean to 
assert that they have not individual performers of 
consummate talent, among whom it would be in- 
justice not to mention the celebrated Paganini *i 
He is a man of eccentric character, and irregular 
habits. Though generally resident at Turin, he has 
no fixed engagement ; but, as occasion may require, 
makes a trading voyage through the principal cities 
of Italy, and can always procure a theatre, upon the 
condition of equal participation in the receipts. 
Many stories are told of the means by which he has 
acquired his astonishing style ; — such as his having 
been imprisoned ten years w T ith no other resource — 
and the like. But, however this may be, his pow- 
ers over the violin are most extraordinary. 

30. A grand ceremony at the church of St. John 
Lateran ; at the conclusion of which the Pope, from 
the balcony, gave his blessing to the people, who 

* 1 subjoin the spirited description of a friend, whose musical 
science and acknowledged taste enable him to speak with much 
more authority than myself. i% Paganini' s performance bears 
the stamp of the eccentricity of his character. As to me- 
chanism, it is quite perfect ; his tone and the thrilling intona- 
tion of his double stops are electric ; his bow moves as if it were 
part of himself, and endued with life and feeling; his staccato 
is more strongly marked than I ever knew, and in the smoother 
passages there is a glassiness, if one may so say, which gives 
you the notion of the perfection of finish, and the highest re- 
finement of practice. Though, in general, there is an ambition 
to display his own talents, by an excess of ornament, yet he 
can, if he will, play with simplicity and pathos, and then his 
power over the passions is equal to that of any orator or actor." 



230 rome — pope's blessing. [apr. 

were assembled in thousands in the large square 
below. 

As soon as the Pope appeared, there was a dis- 
charge of artillery ; the bands of military music 
struck up ; and the people sunk on their knees, un- 
covered. A solemn silence ensued, and the blessing 
was conferred. All seemed to receive this with re- 
verential awe, and it was impossible not to imbibe a 
portion of the general feeling. 

In my way home I encountered his Holiness's 
equipage, and had an opportunity of observing the 
Roman mode of testifying respect to the Sovereign. 
All ranks take off their hats and fall on their knees, 
till the carriage has passed. But this is in har- 
mony with the titles which are conferred upon the 
Pope * at his coronation ; when the Senior Cardinal 
puts the tiara on his head, and addresses him in 
these words : Accipe Tiaram, tribus coronis ornatam, 
et scias Pair em te esse Principum et Regum, Recto- 
rem orbis, in terra Vicarium Salvatoris nostri Jesu 
Christi. 

May 4th. Left Rome at sunrise. — My carriage 
is a sort of buggy on four wheels, drawn by a single 
horse. — My bargain with my voiturier is, to be taken 
to Florence in six days, and to be fed and lodged on 
the road ; for which I am to give him twenty dol- 
lars. The pace is tiresome enough at first ; for the 
horse seldom quits his walk, even for an equivocal 

* Let me here record the compliment with which the Pope 
lately received a party of English, upon their presentation to 
him ; — ft Ho sempre gran piacere nel videre gf Ing/esi, tanto 
hanno fatto per la causa di tutto il mondo." 



1818.] ROME CIVITA CASTELLANA. 231 

amble ; but if you have no particular object in 
getting on, you soon become reconciled to this. 
Besides, it affords ample leisure for surveying the 
country, and gratifying your curiosity at any par- 
ticular point, where you wish to deviate from the 
road ; for you may easily overtake your carriage. 
We halted for the night at Civita Castellana — the 
ancient Veii* — as it is said — and it saves a great 
deal of trouble to believe every thing that is said. 
The town is beautifully situated ; and old Soracte, 
under the modern disguise of St. Oresle, stands up 
boldly by himself in the middle of the plain, at 
a short distance from the town. 

5th. Left Civita Castellana before daylight, in 
order to reach Terni in good time. — Nothing can be 
more beautiful than the views on entering the vale of 
Terni, through which the road and the river Nera 
meander. This day's journey was delightful. — It 
was a May morning, such as you may read of in 
England, in Izaak Walton's description. The sce- 
nery is always rich, and sometimes romantic. The 
features of an Italian landscape are very peculiar. 
The bold and the grand are constantly blended with 

* The real Veii has heen discovered at Isola Barberini — 
about a mile and a half from La Storta, and ten from Rome. 
This discovery is not a doubtful one, but is authenticated by 
numerous inscriptions, which, with several marble pillars, frag- 
ments of temples, and statues, have been lately found here. 
\S hat a mean opinion does this give of the prowess of the 
Romans, who, in so advanced a period of their history, could 
only subdue a city, situated thus at their Gates, by a lucky 
stratagem, and after a ten years' siege. 



232 FALLS OF TERNI. [MAY, 

the soft and the beautiful. Thus, amongst the 
rugged rocks of Terni, the ilex, the cypress, and the 
fir, with the spring leaves of the other trees of the 
forest, refresh the eye with every variety of green ; 
while the mountain-ash, the acacia, the laburnum, 
and the pink- flowered Judas tree — all in full blossom 
— add a richness, which never belongs to the English 
landscape. Of the falls of Terni I will only say, 
that I enjoyed this charming scene, with all the em- 
bellishments that a lovely May evening could add to 
it. The day has its seasons like the year, and even- 
ing — rich in every variety of tint — is its autumn, to 
me the most delightful of all the seasons, whether of 
the day or the year. 

The rays of the setting sun, playing on the light 
foam of the cascade, created innumerable rainbows ; 
and the thrush, whose note is more grateful to my 
ear than that of the nightingale herself — though I 
believe this preference must be traced to the all- 
powerful principle of association, for I have listened 
to her song in some of the happiest hours of my life 
— gave me a concert, in harmony with all around it. 

There is, however, always something to disgust in 
reality ; — and much of the pleasure of my walk was 
destroyed by a troop of clamorous beggars, who 
beset me on every side ; and the more money I gave, 
the more beggars I had. This was villanous ; — for 
if ever there were a walk which " silence" ought to 
" accompany," and with which she might be 
" pleased" — it is a still evening's walk in the vale 
of Terni. 

The cascade has been often described ; but per- 



1818.] FALLS OF TERNI. 233 

haps no description can give a more lively idea of 
the impression which the first sight of it makes upon 
the spectator, than the exclamation of Wilson the 
painter, overheard by Sir Joshua Reynolds, who 
happened to be on the spot. Wilson stood for a 
moment in speechless admiration, and then broke 
out with — " Well done, Water, by G — /" 

6th. I am more reconciled every day to my mode 
of travelling. — The weather is beautiful. Thirty- 
five miles is the average of a day's journey. By 
starting at sunrise, one-half of this is accomplished 
by ten o'clock. It is then usual to halt till two, 
which affords time for a siesta during the heat of the 
day, and the remainder of the journey is concluded 
about seven in the evening. To me, whose object in 
life seems unhappily confined to the task of killing 
time — till time shall kill me — no mode of travelling 
could be better suited ; and the day, thus filled up, 
slips away imperceptibly. But time is a sad anta- 
gonist to contend against ; kill him as you may, day 
after day, you find him up again fresh and revived 
— more pertinacious than Sinbad's old man — to 
renew the battle with you in the morning. Again 
■ — I doubt, all things considered, whether it be not 
better to travel by yourself, than with a companion. 
It is true, you may not always please yourself, but 
you may at least bear with your own ill humour. 
If you could select the very companion you would 
wish, it might alter the case ; — though it seems 
fated that all travelling companions should fall out ; 
— and history is full of instances, from Paul and 
Barnabas, down to Walpole and Gray. — So I jog 



234 JOURNEY TO FLORENCE. [MAY, 

on, contented at least, if not happy, to be alone ; — 
though not perhaps without often feeling the truth 
of Marmontel's observation : 

" // est triste de voir une belle campagne, sans 
pouvoir dire a quelqu'un, Voila une belle cam- 
pagne /" 

Breakfasted at Spoleto — which held out success- 
fully against Hannibal, after the battle of Thrasy- 
mene ; the inhabitants of which still pride themselves 
on the prowess of their ancestors, and show the 
Porta d? Annibale. In digging the foundation of a 
new bridge, the remains of an old Roman bridge 
have lately been discovered here. 

Near Foligno, I encountered a troop of pilgrims, 
on their way home from Loretto to Naples, dressed 
in picturesque uniform, and chanting the evening 
hymn to the Virgin, in very beautiful harmony. 

7th. Debated for some time whether I should 
pursue my route to Florence ; or proceed by way of 
Loretto and Ancona, to Bologna ; but Our Lady, 
when put into the scale against the heathen Goddess 
of the Tribune, immediately kicked the beam — so I 
turned to the left, and continued my way to Perugia. 
Here my voiturier contrived to take up another 
passenger's luggage, without my perceiving it, and 
soon after we got out of the town, he overtook his 
fare, to whom he assigned a place on the outside, in 
spite of my remonstrances ; arguing that I had only 
taken the inside of the carriage to myself, and that 
lie had the patronage of the spare seat on the box. 
The shortest road to redress would have been to 
take the law into my own hands ; but the appeal to 



1818.] JOURNEY TO FLORENCE. 235 

force is the worst, and therefore should be the last 
resort, especially in this case, where the issue was 
doubtful — for the odds were two to one. On arriv- 
ing at Passignano, I applied to the police, and brought 
my voiturier to his senses. 

By-the-by, a written contract, with a voiturier, to 
be valid, ought to be signed by two witnesses, and 
stamped by the police ; but when the merits of the 
case are plain, a stranger will generally find redress, 
in spite of informalities. If, however, you wish to 
secure the good behaviour of your voiturier — keep 
the command of the purse in your own hands. You 
must make occasional advances on the road, but let 
these always be less than the fare. 

8th. Passignano is a miserable hamlet, on the 
brink of the lake of Perugia; and the wretched 
inhabitants bear witness, by their pallid appearance, 
to the pestilent air in which they live. 

Near this place is the scene of the memorable 
battle of Thrasymene. It requires no lights of 
generalship to perceive the egregious error of Fla- 
minius, in marching his army down into a trap ; 
where Hannibal, by taking possession of the heights, 
completely check-mated, or rather, to preserve the 
analogy of the game, stale-mated him. 

Took my morning rest at Castiglione Florentine*, 
a beautiful village in the Tuscan dominions. The 
change in the appearance of the country, or rather 
of the inhabitants, as you leave the dominions of 
the Pope, and enter the Grand Duke's territories, is 
very much in favour of the latter. 

In the Papal States all is slovenly and squalid ; 



236 TUSCAN AGRICULTURE. [MAY, 

there seems to be no middle link in the chain of 
society between the cardinal and the beggar. 

In Tuscany, the very cottages are neat and orna- 
mental ; and there is in the dress and the appearance 
of the peasantry something which bespeaks a sense 
of self-respect, and a taste for comforts, which will 
never be found where the peasantry is in a state of 
hopeless vassalage. 

It was now the hay-making season, and the 
women, in their neat picturesque dresses, and tasteful 
straw-hats, handled their rakes with an elegance of 
manner that would have suited a scene in Arcadia. 

After a- long drive through a delightful country, 
I arrived two hours after dark at Rimaggio. The 
night was beautiful ; the air cool and sweet, and the 
nightingales singing all round us. A meagre 
supper. — Mine host said it was the positive order of 
the government, and that he should be exposed to a 
fine if he allowed any meat to be dressed in his 
house on a Friday ; so that it was in vain I pleaded 
my heretical right to eat what I pleased. 

The cheapness of living in Italy, and the impo- 
sition practised upon travellers, may be collected 
from the price a voiturier pays for the supper at the 
table d'hote, and the lodging of his passengers, 
which I have ascertained to be four Pauls per head ; 
— something less than two shillings. The common 
charge to an Englishman travelling post, who does 
not fare a whit better, is ten Pauls for dinner, and 
as many more for lodging. 

9th. This day's journey carried me through a 
poorer country than I have yet seen. I conversed a 



1818.] TUSCAN AGRICULTURE. 237 

good deal with the peasants, but found them too 
ignorant to explain much of their own economy. 
Their farms seemed to be very small — seldom ex- 
ceeding thirty acres. There is no such thing as 
capital amongst them ; the landlord finds imple- 
ments of all kinds, seed, and manure ; and divides 
the produce with the tenant, after the manner of the 
French Metayers. In their mode of cultivation, 
manual labour appears to bear a much greater pro- 
portion to the other means of production than in 
ours. For certain crops, the ground is broken 
entirely with the spade. I observed no farm sen- 
ants, but the peasant's whole family, male and 
female, mustered in the field. Their fare seemed 
to be very poor ; a mess of lupini boiled up in a 
little broth, and washed down with a very weak sour 
wine, was the dinner, of which they invited me to 
partake. In the richer parts of Tuscany, large farms 
and rich farmers are not uncommon. The breed of 
cattle is large and fine, and invariably of a grey 
dove colour. At Incisa, to-day, I saw a calf being 
led to the slaughter-house ; adorned about the head 
and horns, like a victim in an ancient sacrifice. 
Other ancient customs still linger in the mountain- 
ous parts of this country, where the people still 
believe and practise the mysteries of augury, a 
science in which their Etruscan ancestors were so 
deeply learned. Indeed, it was from them that the 
Romans derived it : — " Quo circa bene apud ma- 
jores no sir os Senatus turn, cum jiorebat Imperium, 
decrevit, ut de principum Jiliis sex singulis Etrurice 
populis in disciplinam traderentur, ne ars tanta 



238 TUSCAN AGRICULTURE. [MAY, 

propter tenuitatem hominum, a religionis auctoritate 
abduceretur, ad mercedem atque qucestum" — Cic. 
de Div. However we may now laugh at such a 
pretended science, we need not wonder, when we 
remember to how late a period the belief in witch- 
craft has continued in our own country, that it was 
made the subject of a controversy in the age of 
Cicero, whether there was any real power of divining 
to be collected from the flight of birds ; and the 
supporter of this opinion dedicated his book to 
Cicero himself. 

Two years ago, when the scarcity of provisions 
was so severely felt throughout Italy, the inhabit- 
ants of the Tuscan Apennines, who rely very much 
upon chestnuts for their support, would have been 
almost exterminated, from the complete failure of 
that crop, had they not been persuaded, the year 
before, into the more general cultivation of the 
potato. The prejudice against it was so great, that 
it was only by offering a reward to each peasant, for 
a certain quantity of his own cultivation, that the 
government succeeded in the attempt. It is to the 
credit of the Tuscan character, that numbers, who 
in the time of famine had felt the benefit and im- 
portance of this vegetable, when they produced 
certificates of their being entitled to the government 
bounty, declined accepting it; declaring that they 
no longer wanted bribing into the belief of the great 
utility of a plant, to which they owed the preserva- 
tion of their lives. 

After a broiling day's journey, I caught a view of 
fair Florence, from the top of the last hill, with all 



1818.] TUSCAN AGRICULTURE. 239 

its domes and towers glittering in the last rays of 
the setting sun. Thinking the character of my 
equipage little suited to the magnificence of Schnei- 
derf's hotel, I established myself at the Pelican ; 
a good house, and much better adapted than 
Schneiderf's to the finances of a man who does not 
travel en grand Seigneur. 



240 [may, 



CHAPTER X. 

State of Society in Italy — Cavaliere Servente System — Italian 
Language — Bologna — Journey to Venice — St. Mark's 
Place — Fall of Venice — Gondolas — Rialto — Journey to 
Milan — Verona — Napoleon Buonaparte — Austrian Dominion 
— Plain of Lombardy. 

May 16th, 1818. After six days of continued 
travelling, a short season of repose succeeds as an 
agreeable vicissitude. Let me employ a portion of 
it in recording my impressions of the moral and 
political state of the country in which I have been 
sojourning. 

The discontent of the people, particularly in 
the Papal and Neapolitan states, is loud and 
open ; — for, though the liberty of the press is 
unknown, they indulge in the fullest freedom of 
speech in canvassing the conduct of their rulers. 
There is indeed ample cause for discontent ; — 
the people seem every day more impatient of the civil 
and ecclesiastical oppressions to which they are sub- 
jected ; — and a revolution is the common topic of 
conversation. If there were any rational hope of re- 
volution bringing improvement, it would be difficult 
not to wish for a revolution in Italy. 

A revolution, however, to be productive of benefit, 
ought to be effected by the quiet operation of public 
opinion — that is, of the virtuous and well-informed 
part of the public ; — and this would be, not revolu- 



1S18.] FLORENCE CAVALIERE SERVENTE. 241 

tion, but reform — the best way of preventing- a revo- 
lution, in the modern sense of that term. But where 
shall we look, in Italy, for the elements of such a 
reform? There can be little hope of its political 
amelioration till some improvement has taken place 
in its moral condition. How can anything great or 
good be expected from a people where the state of 
society is so depraved as to tolerate the cavaliere ser- 
vente system ? — a system which sanctions the public 
display of apparent, if not real infidelity to the most 
important and religious engagement of domestic life. 
And yet, constituted as society is in Italy, this system 
ought perhaps to excite little surprise. For marriage 
is here, for the most part, a mere arrangement of con- 
venience ; and the parties often meet for the first time 
at the foot of the altar. An Italian does not expect 
from such an union the happiness of home, with the 
whole train of domestic charities which an English- 
man associates with the marriage state ; the spes 
animi credula mutui is certainly not the hope of an 
Italian husband — and the Cavaliere robs him of no- 
thing which he is not quite content to spare. 

It is indeed, nine times in ten, to the fault of the 
husband that the infidelity of the wife is to be 
ascribed. This is a reflection I have often made to 
Italian men, who have always seemed disposed to 
admit the truth of it ; but the truth is better attested 
by the exemplary conduct of those women, whose 
husbands take upon themselves to perform the 
offices of affection that are ordinarily left to the 
Cavaliere. An Italian said to me one day, " Una 
donna ha sempre bisogno d'appoggiarsi ad un uomo /" 

R 



242 FLORENCE CAVALIERE SERVENTE. [MAY, 

— If she cannot repose her cares and her confidence 
in the bosom of her husband, is it very surprising 
that she should seek some other support ? Consider 
the character of the Italian woman. Ardent and 
impassioned — jealous of admiration — enthusiastic 
alike in love or in resentment — she is tremblingly 
alive to the provocations which she has so often to 
endure from the open neglect and infidelity of the 
man who has sworn to love and protect her. 

The spretce injuria formce is an insult which has 
provoked colder constitutions than the Italian to 
retaliate. What indeed is there to restrain her ? — 
a sense of duty ? — there is no such sense. An Italian 
woman is accustomed to consider the conjugal 
duties as strictly reciprocal, and would laugh to 
scorn, as tame and slavish submission, the meek and 
gentle spirit which prompted the reply of the 
"divine Desdemona" — 

(i Unkindness may do much ; 
And his unkindness may defeat my life, 
But never taint my love." 

And while there is so little to restrain, the effect 
of example is to encourage her to follow the bent 
of her inclinations ; and she is attended by a licensed 
seducer, privileged to approach her at all hours, 
and at full liberty to avail himself of all the aid 
that opportunity and importunity can lend him for 
the accomplishment of his purpose. 

These observations can only be meant to apply 
to the higher classes of society, to which the Cava- 
liere system is confined ; and it must not be sup- 
posed, even amongst these, that there are not many 



1818.] FLORENCE CAVALIERE SERVENTE. 243 

examples of domestic virtue and domestic happiness ; 
— or that husbands and wives may not be found in 
Italy, as in other places, fondly and faithfully 
attached to each other. Nor is it always a criminal 
connexion that subsists between a Lady and her 
Cavalier e, though it is generally supposed to be so ; 
but many instances might be cited where it is well 
known that it is not. 

There is indeed a sort of mysticism in the tender 
passion, as it seems always to have existed in this 
country, which it is difficult to understand or ex- 
plain. Platonic love, in the verses of Petrarch, if 
indeed Petrarch's love were Platonic, glows with a 
rapturous warmth, which often speaks the very lan- 
guage of a grosser feeling ; while the most depraved 
of all passions has been clothed with a tenderness 
and delicacy of sentiment and expression, which 
would seem to belong only to our purest affections. 
Witness Horace's address to Ligurinus : — 

Sed cur heu Ligurine, cur 

Manat rara meas lacryma per gen as ? 

Cur facunda parum decoro 

Inter verba cadit lingua silentio ? 

What can be more tender, unless it be Pope's 
beautiful imitation — 

But why — ah ! tell me — ah ! too dear ! 
Steals down my cheek th' involuntary tear ? 
Why words so flowing, thoughts so free, 
Stop or turn nonsense at one glance of thee ? 

But to return ; — the Cavaliere system must ever 
remain the great moral blot in the Italian character; 
— and yet, this system, founded as it is in the viola- 

r2 



244 FLORENCE CAVALIERE SERVENTE. [MAY, 

tion of all laws and feelings, has its own peculiar 
regulations, which it would be an unpardonable 
breach of etiquette to transgress. The Lady must 
not have children by her Paramour ; — at least, the 
notoriety of such a fact would be attended with the 
loss of reputation. What can be said of a state of 
society that can tolerate such things, but — " Reform 
it altogether." 

I am afraid the morals of England will not derive 
much benefit from familiarizing our countrywomen 
to hear these connexions talked of, as they constantly 
are, without censure or surprise. It would be impos- 
sible, however, to introduce the system into England 
as it exists here. 

Few Englishmen would be found to bear the yoke 
that is here imposed on a Cavaliere. An Italian, 
without pursuit or profession, may find in this phi- 
landering drudgery a pleasant mode of employing 
his time ; but in England, politics and field-sports 
would, if no better feelings or principles should 
oppose its introduction, be in themselves sufficient to 
interfere with such a system of female supremacy. 
But though much may be feared from familiarity 
with vice, I would rather hope that a nearer con- 
templation of its evil consequences will induce them 
to cling with closer affection to the moral habits 
and institutions of their own country, where the 
value of virtue and fidelity is still felt and appre- 
ciated as it ought to be ; — and to cultivate with 
increasing vigilance all those observances, which 
have been wisely set up as bulwarks to defend and 
secure the purity of the domestic sanctuary. 



1818.] FLORENCE THE VENUS. 245 

I remember Fuller says — " Travel not beyond 
the Alps. Mr. Ascham did thank God that he was 
but nine days in Italy; wherein he saw in one city 
more liberty to sin, than in London he had ever 
heard of in nine years. That some of our gentry 
have gone thither and returned thence, without in- 
fection, I more praise God than their adventure." 
If he entertained apprehensions for the " travel- 
tainted" gentry of his time, we may well feel 
anxiety for the ladies of our own ; feeling, as we 
must, that it is to the female virtues of England 
we should look, not only for the happiness of our 
homes — but also for the support of that national 
character, which has led to all our national great- 
ness ; — for the character of a nation is ever mainly 
determined by the institutions of domestic life ; — 
and it is to the influence of maternal precept and 
maternal example upon the mind of childhood, that 
all the best virtues of manhood may ultimately be 
traced. 

17th. The Venus pleases me more than ever. 
There is nothing in Rome, or elsewhere, that can 
be compared with her. There is that mysterious 
something about her, quod nequeo monstrare, et 
sentio tantum, impressed by the master-touch, which 
is as inexplicable as the breath of life. It is this 
incommunicable something, which no copy or cast, 
however accurate, is able to catch. I doubt whether 
the same thing can be observed of the Apollo ; 
whence I am inclined to believe the notion which, it 
is said, was first started by Fiaxman — that the 
Apollo itself is but a copy. The style of the finish- 



246 FLORENCE ITALIAN LANGUAGE. [MAY, 

ing has certainly not the air of an original work ; — 
it possesses little of that indefinable spirit and 
freedom, which are the characteristics of those 
productions in which the author follows only the 
conceptions of his own mind. The form and dispo- 
sition of the drapery are said to afford technical 
evidence of the strongest kind, that the statue must 
have been originally executed in bronze ; and the 
materials of which the Apollo is composed, which, 
it seems, are at last determined to be Italian 
marble, favour the same opinion. 

18th. The Tuscan dialect* sounds harshly, and 
almost unintelligibly, after the soft and sonorous 
cadence of the Roman pronunciation. However 
pure the lingua Toscana may be, the bocca Romana 
seems necessary to give it smoothness. It is de- 
lightful to listen to the musical flow of the words, 
even independently of their sense. Then how 
pretty are their diminutives ! What answer could 
be invented more soothing to impatient irritability 
than — "momentino, Signore!" The Romans how- 
ever are too apt to fall into a sort of sing-song 
recitative, while the Tuscans — that is, the lower 
orders — offend you with a guttural rattle, not 
unlike the Welsh. There is perhaps no country 
where the dialects vary more than in the different 
provinces of Italy. The language of Naples and 
the Milanese is a sort of Babylonish jargon, little 
better than gibberish. The origin of the Italian 
language has long been a subject of discussion. 
The literati of Florence are fond of tracing it up 
to Etruscan antiquity. We know that Etruria had 



131S.] FLORENCE ITALIAN LANGUAGE. 247 

a language of its own, distinct from the Latin. 
This was the language in which the Sibyl was sup- 
posed to have delivered her oracles, and in which 
the augurs interpreted the mysteries of their pro- 
fession. Livy says, " Habeo auctores, vulgo turn 
Romanes pueros, sicut nunc Grcecis, ita Etruscis 
Uteris erudiri solitos" This language is by some 
supposed to have continued to exist during the 
whole time of the Romans, as the sermo vulgaris — 
the patois — which was in common use amongst 
the peasantry of the country ; while the Latin was 
confined to the higher classes, and the capital ; — to 
the senate, the forum, the stage, and to literature. 

This opinion does not seem entirely destitute of 
probability. We have living evidence in our own 
island of the difficulty of changing the language of 
a people. In France, too, till within the last half 
century, the southern provinces were almost utterly 
ignorant of French ; and, even at present, the 
lower classes of the peasantry never speak French, 
but continue to make use of a patois of the old 
Provencal language. 

In like manner it is supposed by many that pure 
Latin was confined to the capital and to high life ; 
while the ancient Etruscan, which had an addi- 
tional support in being consecrated to the service of 
religion, always maintained its ground as the collo- 
quial patois of the greatest part of Italy. Thus, 
when Rome fell, the polished language of the 
capital fell with it; but the patois of the common 
people remained, and still remains, in an improved 
edition, in the language of modern Italy. For, if 



248 FLORENCE ITALIAN LANGUAGE. [MAT, 

this be not so, we must suppose, first, that the 
Etruscan was rooted out by the Latin, and that the 
Latin has again yielded in its turn to a new tongue. 
But innovations in language are the slowest of all 
in working their way ; and if the pure Latin of the 
classics had ever been the colloquial language of 
the common people, some living evidence of it 
would surely have been discovered, as we now find 
the ancient language of the Britons lingering in the 
fastnesses of V^ales and Cornwall ; — but no informa- 
tion is handed down to us by which we can ascer- 
tain when Latin was the common spoken language 
of Italy, or at what period it ceased to exist. 

Still, however, on the other hand, it is perhaps 
equally extraordinary that we should meet with no 
traces of this colloquial patois in the writings of the 
ancients. Some allusion indeed is made by Quin- 
tilian to the sermo militaris — a dialect in use 
among the soldiery; — but if the language of the 
common people was so distinct as it is supposed, it 
is strange that we do not find more direct mention 
of it ; especially in the plays of Plautus, who with 
his love of broad humour, might naturally have 
been expected, after the example of Aristophanes, 
to have availed himself of such a source of the 
ridiculous. And when one reads in modern Italian 
such lines as the following, the parent language 
seems to stand confessed in the identity of the 
resemblance : 

In mare irato, in subita procolla 
Invoco te nostra berrigna stella. 



1818.] FLORENCE F1ESOLE. 249 

Or, again, 

Vivo in acerba pena, in mesto orrore, 
Quan do te non implorb, in te non spero, 
Purisdma Maria, et in sincero 
Te non adoro, et in divino ardore. 

These lines however were probably studiously 
composed in this indiscriminate character ; — and 
they might be counterbalanced by examples of 
early Roman inscriptions, which certainly bear 
more affinity to the modern Italian than to the 
Latin ; — and this would seem to show that the two 
languages might have existed and gone on pro- 
gressively together. After considering therefore 
all that is urged by opposite writers on this subject, 
one is reduced to the conclusion of Sir Roger de 
Coverley, of happy memory, — that much may be 
said on both sides. Thus much is certain ; that 
at least the guttural accent of Tuscany is as old 
as Catullus, who has ridiculed it in one of his 
epigrams : 

Chommoda dicebat, si quando commoda vellet 
Dicere, et hinsidias, Arrius insidias. 

19th. An evening at Fiesole — which is situated 
on a commanding eminence, about three miles dis- 
tant from Florence. The country is now in the 
highest beauty. Spring is the season for Italy. 
We have little Spring or Summer in England — 
except in Thomson's Seasons. Climate, if it do not 
constitute the happiness, is a very important ingre- 
dient in the comfort of life. An evening or night, 
in an Italian villa, at this season of nightingales 
and moonlight, is a most delicious treat. How 



250 ITALIAN SPRING. [MAY 

could Shakspeare write as he has done, without 
having been in Italy ! Some of his garden scenes 
breathe the very life of reality. And yet if he had 
been here, I think he would not have omitted all 
allusion to the fire-fly, a little flitting insect, that 
adds much to the charm of the scene. The whole 
garden is illuminated by myriads of these sparkling 
lights, sprinkled about with as much profusion as 
spangles on a lady's gown. 

There is something delightfully pleasant in the 
voluptuous languor which the soft air of an Italian 
evening occasions; — and then the splendour of an 
Italian sun-set ! I shall never forget the impres- 
sion made upon me by a particular evening. The 
sun had just gone down, leaving the whole sky 
dyed with the richest tints of crimson — while the 
virgin snows of the distant mountains were suffused 
with blushes of " celestial rosy red ; " when, from an 
opposite quarter of the heavens, there seemed to 
rise another sun, as large, as bright, and as glowing 
as that which had just departed. It was the moon 
at the full ; — and the illusion was so complete, that 
it required some few moments to convince me 
that I was not in Fairy Land. 

But one season is wanting; — there is no interval 
between day and night ; and the " sober livery " of 
gray twilight is here unknown. Night, however, of 
which we know little in England, but as it is con- 
nected with fire and candle, is now the most charm- 
ing period of the whole twenty-four hours; and 
there are no unwholesome dews, no sore-throat- 
bringing damps, to disturb your enjoyment with 
fears of to-morrow's consequences. 



ISIS.] BOLOGNA. 251 

20th. Left Florence at day-break, travelling' as 
before in a voitnrier's carriage ; indeed, little would 
be gained in point of speed by travelling post be- 
tween this place and Bologna : for the road is so 
hilly, that you must necessarily be limited to a foot- 
pace. I was stopped at the custom-house on re- 
entering the Papal dominions, where they obliged 
me to pay the full value of a parcel of Italian 
books, which I had with me, giving me an order to 
receive the same again at the frontier custom- 
house, when I should quit the Pope's dominions. 
It was explained to me that this was merely in- 
tended as a necessary precaution ; — for it might be 
that I was a book-merchant, and wished to sell 
these books in the Pope's territories, without paying 
the entrance duties. As there seemed no help for 
it, I was obliged to comply with the demand ; and 
take the officer's word that the scrap of paper he 
gave me would reproduce my money at the opposite 
extremity of his Holiness's territories. 

We slept at the half-way house between Florence 
and Bologna. 

21st. Wild romantic road over the Apennines 
— recalling the descriptions of Mrs Radcliffe in 
her Romance of Udolpho. Reached Bologna early 
in the morning. Grand fete of Corpus Christi. 
All the streets were hung with satin, and covered in 
with splendid awnings, which on this occasion were 
of more use against the rain than the sun. 

One of the most striking ornaments of the town 
is John of Bologna's bronze Neptune, who presides 
over a fountain in the great square \ but there is a 



252 BOLOGNA. [MAY, 

poverty of water, and Neptune seems here — out of 
his element. 

22d. The more you travel, the less you will rely 
upon the descriptions of guides and itineraries. 
There are no degrees in their descriptions, and all 
you collect from them, in general, is the ignorance 
of the compilers. One of these compares the leaning 
lump of brick at Bologna, which looks like the 
chimney of a steam-engine blown a little out of the 
perpendicular, to the graceful and elegant tower of 
Pisa. Bologna is very rich in paintings ; — the 
works of Guido, collected here, have shown him to 
me in a new light ; and have convinced me that I 
had not hitherto formed a just estimate of his 
merit. There is a force and grandeur in some of 
these, of which the generality of his pictures gives 
little indication. The Crucifixion, and the Mas- 
sacre of the Innocents, are specimens of the highest 
excellence of composition and execution*. 

It is necessary to come to Bologna, to appreciate 
properly the excellence of Guido, Domenichino, and 
the fraternity of Caracci. The Persecution of the 
Albigenses, by Domenichino — a magnificent pic- 
ture. A Madonna, by Ludovico Caracci — exqui- 
sitely elegant ; — but then it is the elegance and 
refinement of a woman of fashion. She is not the 
Madonna, such as Raphael has represented her, 
and such as she will ever exist personified in the 
imagination of him who has seen Raphael's pic- 

* The St. Peter and St. Paul, which is at Milan, is another 
specimen of Guido's best manner. 



1818.] JOURNEY TO VENICE. 253 

tares. A Transfiguration, by the same painter — an 
admirable conception of a subject which, with re- 
verence to Raphael be it spoken, does not seem 
adapted to painting. 

The Cecilia of Raphael has, I suspect, been re- 
touched, and spoilt, at Paris. 

Bologna is a clean and well-built town; though 
the arcades, which project in front of the houses, 
give it a heavy appearance. The fish-market is 
excellently arranged, with streams of water running 
through it, securing cleanliness. 

This is a country famous for the excellence of its 
frogs, though the French alone bear the reproach of 
eating them ; — if reproach there be in eating a very 
excellent dish. 

The reproach might, perhaps, with more reason 
be directed against the prejudice that prevents us 
from availing ourselves of the plentiful provision 
which nature has put within our reach. But I 
suppose nothing would induce the lower classes in 
England to have recourse to such means of subsist- 
ence, however wholesome and nutritious. 

The fish-market was full of frogs, ready prepared 
for dressing, and trussed upon skewers; in the 
manner described in the simile of Ariosto, where 
he says, that Orlando spitted his enemies upon his 
spear — like frogs upon a skewer. 

After a long morning of picture-gazing and 
sight-seeing, I contrived to reach Tedo in the 
evening, on my way to Venice. 

23d. Halted at noon at Ferrara — a large dull 
dilapidated town; which contains nothing to in- 



254 JOURNEY TO VENICE. [.MAY, 

terest or detain you, unless you can derive pleasure 
from visiting the prison in which Tasso was con- 
fined, and expectorating a few imprecations against 
the tyranny of his oppressor ; though, perhaps, after 
all, the more recent opinion may be better founded 
— that Alphonso confined the insane poet out of 
pure good will. 

Reached Ponte Lago-scuro early in the evening, 
the last town of the Papal territory ; where I was 
agreeably surprised by the recovery of my deposit- 
money, without deduction or difficulty ; — and so 
good bye to the Pope and the Cardinals! — with 
whom I wish to part in charity and good humour ; 
though it is difficult to preserve those feelings to- 
wards them, amidst the constant vexations to which 
one is subjected in travelling through their domi- 
nions. 

Quitted my carriage at Lago-scuro; and crossing 
the Po — which is here much like the Thames at 
Putney — agreed with the Venetian courier for a 
place in his boat to Venice. The fare is 17 francs 
2 5 cents ; and for this he not only conveys yourself 
and your baggage a distance of 80 miles, but also 
provides a table for you on the way. 

Excellent boat ; — the cabin fitted up with a settle 
on each side the table, in which a seat was elbowed 
in for each person. 

24th. On mounting the deck this morning at 
sun-rise, I found we had glided about forty miles 
down the stream in the course of the night, and 
were at the gate of the lock, where we were to quit 
the Po, to enter a canal, which connects this river 



1818.] Venice — st. mark's. 255 

with the Adige. From the height of the Po, it was 
judged unsafe to open the gate of the lock, for fear 
of inundating the whole country ; so that we were 
obliged to wait till the courier from Venice arrived 
with his boat on the other side of the gate. 

This occasioned a delay of five hours ; and when 
he did come, we had to shift passengers and bag- 
gage on both sides. 

We soon got into the Adige ; after floating down 
which for a few miles, we entered another canal, 
which brought us into one of the lagune that lead 
to Venice. 

The accommodations of the passage-boat must be 
greatly improved since Arthur Young's time, whose 
description had almost deterred me from venturing 
the experiment. Every thing was well managed; 
our courier gave us an admirable dinner; and at 
sun-set we caught a glimpse of the domes of Venice, 
rising out of the sea. 

It was midnight before we reached the post- 
office. 

25th. Breakfasted at a cafe in the Piazza of St. 
Mark. After threading a narrow line of alleys, not 
half the width of that of Cranbourne, I came unex- 
pectedly upon this grand square, the first sight of 
which is very striking. It would be difficult to 
compare it with any thing. It is unique; rich, 
venerable, magnificent. The congregation of all 
nations, in their various costumes, who lounge under 
the purple awnings of the cafes — smoking, playing 
at chess, and quaffing coffee — add much to its em- 
bellishment, and are in character with the build- 



256 venice — st. mark's. [may, 

ings ; where all orders of architecture seem jumbled 
together. The cathedral certainly belongs to no 
single one; — it is of a mixed breed, between a 
Mahometan mosque and a Christian church ; but, 
when it was built, the imaginations of the Venetians 
were full of Constantinople, and the glorious ex- 
ploits of Dandolo. The famous horses which he 
brought in triumph to Venice, as the trophies of his 
conquest of Constantinople, have again resumed 
their place over the portal of the cathedral. 

In this age of scepticism, it is doubted whether 
these are indeed the famous horses of Lysippus 
which have made so much noise in history, con- 
nected with the names of Nero, Trajan, and Con- 
stantine ; and a passage is quoted from the Byzan- 
tine Fathers, to prove that they were cast at Chios, 
so late as the fourth century. However this be, I 
think they are scarcely worth the trouble that has 
been taken about them, that is, for any merit they 
have as representations of horses ; — though, if their 
identity be made out, they are great curiosities, as 
historical memorials of the rapacity of conquerors, 
and the instability of fortune. The fashion of hog- 
ging the mane, ugly as it is, may plead the example 
of these horses in its favour. They were reinstated 
in their former place at Venice, with great pomp 
and ceremony; and the Emperor Francis has re- 
corded, in a golden inscription, the robbery of the 
French, and his own triumph : 

QUATUOR EQUORUM SIGNA A VENETIS BYZANTIO 

CAPTA, AD TEMP. D. MAR. A. R. S. MCCIV POSITA 

QU;E HOST1LIS CUPIDITAS A. MDCCCIII ABSTULERAT 



181S.] VENICE DUCAL PALACE. 257 

FRANC. I. IMP. PACIS ORBI DA.T-E: TROPxLEUM A, 
MDCCCXV VICTOR REDUXIT. 

I rejoice that the horses have been restored, and 
that France has been made to disgorge ail her 
plunder; but they should not throw stones who live 
in a house of glass. The French had surely as 
much right to take them from Venice, as Dandolo 
had to bring them thither ; in both cases, it was 
but the right of the strongest. 

Before the door of the cathedral stand three bare 
poles, where formerly the flags of Crete, Cyprus, 
and the Morea, the three vassal kingdoms of the 
haughty republic, floated in the wind. 

26th. Though there is enough in the historical 
recollections of Venice to invest it with great in- 
terest, yet there is a further and more powerful 
fascination in its scenery, which is derived from the 
magic illusions of poetry. 

At least, in my own case, I confess that I thought 
more of Shakspeare and Otway — Othello and Shy- 
lock — Pierre and Jamer — than of Dandolo and all 
his victories. It is wonderful how place aids the 
effect of poetry. Went over the Ducal Palace, and 
sat in the seat of the Doge. The hall, where the 
senate used to assemble, remains in its ancient 
state. The chamber in which the famous Council 
of Ten held their meetings was converted by Napo- 
leon into a Court of Cassation. 

The hall of the general assembly is now a library, 
where there are some beautiful remains of ancient 
sculpture. The rape of Ganymede is an exquisite 
little morsel, and is thought to be the work of 

s 



258 FALL OF VENICE. [MAY, 

Phidias himself. Leda and her Swan is a bijou in 
the same taste. It is surprising that the French, 
who knew so well what to steal, should have over- 
looked two articles that might have been so easily 
carried away. 

The famous lion's mouth is destroyed. The 
Bridge of Sighs — il Ponte del Sospiri — connects the 
ducal palace with the state-prison. Criminals were 
brought through a covered way over this bridge, 
from their dungeons, to the tribunal of the Council 
of Ten. Criminal proceedings are still carried on 
in secret, and I saw to-day a man being conducted 
back to prison after trial, through the covered pas- 
sage over the Bridge of Sighs. 

It is impossible to walk through these splendid 
chambers, decorated with pictures commemorating 
the most brilliant achievements, and the most signal 
examples of the ancient power and glory of the 
Venetian republic, without feeling sorrow for its 
present condition. The only consolation the people 
seem to feel is something like king Arthur's in Tom 
Thumb, who congratulates himself that he has at 
least outlived all his neighbours ; 

" Thus all our pack upon the floor is cast, 
And ray sole boast is, that I die the last/' 

Thus, the Venetians appeal with triumph to their 
fourteen centuries of power; — a longer duration 
than that enjoyed by any other people on record. 
Fourteen centuries were indeed a pretty long reign; 
but, in fact, the republic had ceased to exist before 
the invasion of the French. Napoleon gave the 



I 



ISIS.] FALL OF VENICE. 259 

coup de grace, but the life of the commonwealth 
was already expiring. The government had dege- 
nerated into an oligarchical tyranny, of all tyrannies 
the most detestable ; and the people had nothing 
left to fight for. It is ever thus ; for it seems that 
there is in all governments a tendency to abuse, and 
it ought perhaps rather to excite surprise that Ve- 
nice endured so long, than that she fell at last. 

The Doge and his Privy Council yielded without 
a struggle at the first approach of the enemy; and 
instead of dying " with harness on their back, 3 ' 
they betrayed the interests of their country, to make 
favourable terms for themselves with the conqueror. 
Junot delivered Buonaparte's threatening letter to 
the Doge himself in council ; thus insulting him to 
his face by the grossest breach of the laws of the 
republic. In the last scene of all, the Doge had the 
baseness to propose, and the Grand Council had 
the baseness to consent to, a still more disgraceful 
compliance with the demands of Buonaparte ; who 
insisted, as a preliminary condition to a treaty, that 
the three State Inquisitors, and the naval com- 
mander, who had alone evinced courage to do their 
duty in the defence of their country, should for this 
very performance of their duty, be arrested and 
brought to trial. 

A few days afterwards, the Doge and the Council 
in full assembly, with pusillanimous unanimity, voted 
their own abdication. Such was the last inglorious 
act of a republic that had endured for fourteen 
hundred years — " Oh lame and impotent conclu- 
sion ! " 



260 VENICE ALBERGO FAVRETTI. [MAY, 

Thus fell the Republic of Venice; and when a 
republic does fall, — she falls like Lucifer, never to 
rise again. If there had been no hostility on the 
part of the great ones of the world to the re-esta- 
blishment of her free government, I believe it would 
have been impossible to find in Venice that life- 
blood of public spirit, which is necessary to restore 
animation and energy to the body politic of a com- 
monwealth. A republic indeed cannot be restored ; 
it is a constitution that must be claimed, and won, 
by the spirit and courage of the people themselves ; 
and where these qualities are wanting, a republic 
would not be maintained if it were restored. It is 
not every people that is fit to be free ; and Ma- 
chiavel has long ago pronounced, that to make a 
servile people free is as difficult a task, as to make 
a free people slaves. 

27th. Established myself at the Albergo Fav- 
retti, near the grand ducal palace, commanding a 
fine view of the sea. I should prefer this in all 
respects to either of the two great hotels, even if it 
had not many recommendations on the score of 
economy. I give my landlord seven francs per 
day; for which I have an excellent room, with 
breakfast and dinner, both good of their kind. 
Venice abounds in all sorts of fish ; — mullet, 
thunny, an excellent variety of the sturgeon, and 
the S. Pietro, or, as it is sometimes called, — // 
Janitore — from which is derived our own corrup- 
tion of John Dory. 

A tour amongst churches and palaces ; but I am 
tired of churches as curiosities to be stared at ; 



ISIS. J VENICE TITIAN ARSENAL. 261 

and having seen St. Peter's, I shall content myself 
with the maxim of o nine majus continet in se minus, 
and be satisfied with my own parish church for the 
rest of my life. 

Venice is rich in the works of her own Titian ; 
his two most celebrated pictures are the Martyrdom 
of a St. Peter — not the apostle — in the church of 
St. John and St. Paid, and the Assumption of ike 
Virgin, in the academy. 

Connoisseurs have lavished encomiums upon 
these productions of Titian in the grand style of 
composition, but I confess I like him better when 
he confines himself to " the primrose path of dal- 
liance ;" for it is in the representation of the soft 
and the beautiful, embellished with all the rich and 
glowing varieties of colour that he seems to follow 
the bent of his genius, and to paint con amore. 
There are also many splendid works of Paul Ve- 
ronese, and of Tintoretto. 

Visited the Arsenal, where there were accom- 
modations for building six and thirty ships of war, 
under cover; — but the ships and the commerce of 
Venice have vanished with its freedom. There is 
now scarcely a cock-boat in the harbour. The 
vulgar are taught to believe, that England ab- 
stained from exercising her influence in procuring 
the restoration of the Republic, from feelings of 
commercial jealousy. Nobody seems to doubt our 
power to have effected this good work, both in the 
case of Venice and of Genoa. But, if it really 
were in our power, it is indeed difficult to account 
for our supineness. All commercial considerations 



262 Venice — Galileo's tower. [may, 

would have prompted us to further this measure ; 
for, excluded as our manufactures are from the 
Continental States — at least, as far as the govern- 
ments can exclude them — it would have been 
greatly to the advantage of England, that free 
commercial states should have been established at 
Venice and Genoa, which would have afforded chan- 
nels of communication for the introduction of 
English goods to the whole south of Europe. 
Austria would willingly, if she could, exclude all 
English manufactures ; but the effect of her ri- 
gorous prohibitions is to put that money into the 
pockets of the custom-house officers, which she 
would otherwise receive herself, in the shape of 
duties. The bribery of the custom-house has been 
reduced to a regular system, and the insurance of 
the safe arrival of goods at Vienna is negotiated 
upon an accurate calculation of these expenses. 

In the evening I mounted to the top of St. 
Mark's tower, where Galileo used to hold com- 
merce with the skies. It commands a fine pano- 
ramic view of Venice, and shows you all the details 
of this wonderful town, which rises out of the 
waters like the ark of the deluge. 

The height of the tower is about 330 feet, and 
when you look down to the busy crowds below, in 
St. Mark's Place, they look like bees in a hive, or 
ants in a molehill, crawling about without any 
apparent object. 

28th. The gondolas afford a pleasant lounging 
mode of moving about Venice. These light sharp- 
beaked boats glide along with great rapidity. In 



1813.] VENICE GONDOLAS RIALTO. 263 

the middle of them is a sort of tented cabin, covered 
with a black cloth awning, which gives them a very 
funereal appearance. This universal black colour 
was imposed by a sumptuary law of the Republic, 
to check the extravagant expense in which it had 
become the fashion to indulge in fitting up these 
vessels. At night, they cany lanterns attached to 
the prow and stern, and the effect of these lights, 
scudding along in all directions, while the vessels 
that carry them are invisible, is very pleasing. 

There are only eight horses in Venice : four are 
of brass, over the gate of the cathedral; and the 
other four are alive in Lord Byron's stable. The 
little island of Lido affords room for a short canter. 
The Venetian women are superb ; — there is some- 
thing peculiarly bewitching in their air and gait : 
but, I believe, they are but little changed since the 
time of Iago, and that still 

te In Venice they do let Heaven see the pranks 
They dare not show their husbands." 

Walked upon the Rialto ; — if no more were in- 
cluded under this name than the single arch across 
the canal, the congregation of merchants before 
whom Antonio used to rate Shylock must have 
been a small one; — nor could Pierre well have 
chosen a worse place for "his evening walk of 
meditation." 

The fact is, however, that the little island which 
formed the cradle of Venice, where the first church 
was built by the fugitives from the persecution of 
Attila, was called Riva-alta, or Rialto. Here too 
was the Exchange where the merchants met. In 



264 VENICE GOLD CHAIN MANUFACTURE. [lIAY, 

process of time the bridge leading" to this island 
was called the Rialto, and has at last become the 
sole proprietor of the name. 

In the evening to the Opera. Venice is the land 
of late hours : the scene in St. Mark's Place at 
midnight is more gay and animated than at any hour 
of the day ; and it is after the opera that evening 
parties and conversazioni commence. The Gondo- 
liers no longer sing the verses of Tasso ; but you 
are frequently regaled with beautiful music from 
parties of dilettanti musicians. I ought to record, 
as an instance of the obliging civility of the Ita- 
lians, that I met a serenading party in a Gondola 
to-night, singing very beautifully to their guitars 
the songs of a favourite opera. Supposing they 
were professional people, and under the idea that I 
was to make them a recompense, I detained them 
half an hour ; and it was not till they explained 
their refusal of any remuneration, that I found it 
was a nobleman's family returning from an excur- 
sion to Padua. 

The cafes in the Place of St. Mark are bril- 
liantly lighted, and you might fancy, when you see 
it for the first time, that it was a gala night of 
extraordinary occurrence. The shops under the 
arcades are very handsome, particularly those of 
jewellery. One of the principal manufactures is 
that of gold chain, which is brought to the greatest 
perfection. The price of the chain is in proportion 
to its diminutiveness. I gave twenty francs for a 
small specimen, not more than an inch and a half 
long, of the ne plus ultra of this manufacture : it is 



1818.] VENICE ARMENIAN CONVENT. 265 

worked with the aid of microscopic glasses, and 
seems to be the absolute minimum of all that is 
little. 

29th. I was awakened from my dreams of poetry 
this morning' by a sharp east wind from the Adri- 
atic ; bringing with it, as usual to me, cough and 
fever, attended with most oppressive defluxion upon 
the lungs. What a miserable thing it is to depend 
upon the wind for the power to breathe ! — espe- 
cially at Venice, where you are not allowed to take 
what physic you please without the assistance of a 
physician. I sent a prescription to a druggist, and 
though the strongest ingredient in it was paregoric 
elixir, the answer he returned was, that he might 
not sell so potent a potion without medical sanction. 

I thought of Romeo's apothecary ; but my friend 
was less compliant than his, for he persisted in his 
refusal ; and as I was equally resolute not to 
comply with his condition, I must have gone with- 
out my draught — which perhaps would have been 
the best course of all — if my friend the Vice-Consul 
had not supplied me from the consular medicine- 
chest. 

Passed the morning at the Armenian convent; 
— a very interesting establishment, where, as long 
as the present librarian — Father Paschal Aucher 
— a man of great learning, very extensive know- 
ledge of the world, and most amiable manners, — 
continues in office, a few hours may be passed most 
agreeably. 

Went afterwards to the Campo di S. Maria For- 
mosa to see the house of the "proud Priuli;" 



266 LEAVE VENICE FOR MILAN. [MAY, 

which still belongs to the family of that name. 
The east wind continues with such biting severity, 
that I feel I cannot stay here, and so, to-morrow — 
" I must away toward Padua." 

30th. Left Venice in the courier's boat, and 
arrived at Padua in the evening. The voyage is 
dull and uninteresting. The banks of the Brent a 
are just high enough to prevent your view of the 
country, without possessing any beauty in them- 
selves to render them interesting. 

I found the apothecaries at Padua more accom- 
modating than at Venice ; — and if I had been 
inclined to swallow poison, I should have met with 
no obstruction. 

31st. Engaged with a vetturino for a place in his 
carriage to Milan. I should have, as usual, engaged 
a small carriage to myself, but the pleasure of this 
mode of travelling depends much upon the state of 
the weather, and the character of the scenery through 
which you pass. In the present case, the rain is 
pouring down in torrents; and the plain of Lom- 
bardy offers no great promise of picturesque beauty ; 
so that I prefer studying life and manners in the 
inside of a vetturino's coach. By the way, these 
vetturini are the greatest scoundrels upon earth, 
excepting perhaps the jackals or finders*, who hunt 
down their prey for them. This is a regular pro- 

* The Italian designation of ih^ finder is Sensale. He fleeces 
the Vetturino without mercy ; and in some of the petty states 
the latter is obliged to have recourse to him, and not allowed to 
make his bargain for himself; the Sensale being the agent of 
the Police, who must also have their share of the plunder. 



1818.] vicenza. 267 

fession in all the towns of Italy ; and a tribe of these 
fellows is constantly on the look-out for travellers, 
whom they cheat of course as much as they can ; — 
for their own profit consists of so much per cent. 
upon the bargain they make in behalf of their 
employers. 

My companions are a ci-devant captain of infantry, 
in the army of the kingdom of Italy, who had served 
in Spain for many years, and who retired in disgust 
when his country was subjected to the government 
of Austria, and two Italian ladies of the negoziante 
class. We halted in the evening at Vicenza. The 
rain prevented my attempting to see any thing, but 
I console myself with hoping that there was nothing 
to see. 

June 1st. Another day of rain. My military 
companion is a very intelligent man, and we have 
had much friendly discussion on all subjects, except 
politics — or, I should rather say, except military 
topics. It is truly provoking, after the achievements 
of the English at Waterloo, that their countrymen 
should have to fight the battle over again, as one 
ever has to do, when the subject is canvassed out 
of England. 

The truth in this, as in most cases, will be found 
to lie in the middle ; between the exaggerated pre- 
tensions of the English, who insist upon having 
gained a complete victory, and the ridiculous ex- 
travagancies of the French, who would wish to talk 
themselves and all the world into a belief that, if 
the Prussians had not robbed them of their prey, 
they should have annihilated the English. A calm 



268 VERONA. [jUNE y 

retrospect of the objects that the two leaders proposed 
to themselves will, I think, show clearly how the 
question really stands between the English and the 
French, without embarrassing it with the Prussian 
co-operation. 

Napoleon's object was to carry the English army 
by storm, and thus gain Brussels before the arrival 
of the Prussians ; — he pointed out the road to his 
soldiers with exultation — he triumphed by anticipa- 
tion in the idea that, at last, he had got the English 
within his gripe ; — " Ah I pour le coup je les tiens 
done, ces Anglais ;" — and so confident was he of 
success, that he had prepared printed proclamations, 
dated from the royal palace at Brussels. The Duke 
of Wellington's object seems to have been simply to 
prevent this, by standing his ground, and keeping 
the enemy at bay till he should be joined by his ally. 

This is all that the Duke of Wellington proposed 
to himself to do, and this is what he did do most 
completely and triumphantly, proprio marte. It is 
to the having repulsed the enemy, and defeated his 
object, that the claims of the English should be 
limited ; — and this is claim enough. Then come 
the Prussians, and convert this repulse into a rout; 
and now, those who ran away would fain hope, that 
between the English and the Prussians — as in the 
old fable of the stools — the glory of the day may- 
rest upon neither. 

The evening cleared up as we approached Verona, 
the environs of which are beautiful ; and the town 
itself has a gay and pleasing appearance. 

The amphitheatre has suffered little from the 



1818.] NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 269 

lapse of centuries, and it serves as an explanatory 
key to the great Coliseum at Rome. I have observed 
here again, that the mind is more impressed with 
the grandeur of what it has seen, by a subsequent 
comparison of its recollections with smaller objects 
of the same kind, than by the actual contemplation 
of the objects themselves. Thus the amphitheatre 
of Verona has made me more sensible of the pro- 
digious scale of the Coliseum, than I was when 
within the walls of the Coliseum itself. 

I went in the evening to the theatre ; but the 
house was dull, dark, and dirty ; and the audience 
seemed to come with any other object rather than to 
hear the play, for they talked amongst themselves 
as loud as the actors on the stage. 

When there is no sympathy between the actor and 
the audience, nothing can be more tiresome than a 
play. The re-action is wanting, to give it spirit ; 
for when a play goes off well, it is, I believe, 
because the audience bring at least one-half the 
entertainment along with them. 

2nd. Halted to breakfast at Desenzano, on the 
bank of the Lago di Garcia. On the island in the 
lake are the remains of Catullus's villa. We were 
now passing over the scenes of Buonaparte's Italian 
campaigns, and my military companion was very 
eloquent in the praise of the ci-devant Emperor. It 
is truly surprising to witness the enthusiasm of 
feeling which this man has excited in his favour 
amongst those who have served under him. My 
companion spoke of the effect of his appearance on 
the field of battle, in its influence upon the spirits 



270 NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. [jUXE, 

of his army, as something supernatural. No man 
could ever act the hero better, when it suited his 
purpose ; and no man ever attained in greater per- 
fection the art of gaining that ascendancy over his 
followers, which constitutes the spell that strong 
minds hold over weak ones. 

He seems to have had a very happy knack in 
speaking as well as acting the sublime. The captain 
gave me two instances of this kind. At the battle 
of Lodi, there was a battery of the enemy which 
was making dreadful havoc amongst the French 
ranks, and repeated attempts had been made to 
storm it in vain. An officer came to Buonaparte to 
represent to him the importance of making another 
effort to silence it ; when he put himself at the head 
of a party, exclaiming Qvfelle se taise ! and carried 
it by storm. On another occasion, he was giving 
some impracticable orders, which were humbly 
represented to him to be impossible ; when he burst 
out — Comment? ce mot rfest pas Fra?ipais. The 
most remarkable feature in the character of this 
strange being is his inconsistency ; displaying, as he 
does, at different times,- the most opposite extremes 
of great and little — magnificence and meanness. 
This inconsistency, however, is sufficiently explained 
by his utter want of fixed principles of right and 
wrong. What can be expected from him who laughs 
at religion, and does not even possess a sense of 
honour to keep him steady in the path of greatness ! 
Selfishness seems to have been the foundation of his 
system, the only principle which he acknowledged ; 
and this will reconcile all the apparent inconsist- 



1818.] NAFOLEON BUONAPARTE. 271 

encies of his conduct. Every tiling was right to him 
that conduced to his own interest, by any means, 
however wrong ; and as his mind seems to have had 
the power of expanding with his situation, so it had 
an equal power of contracting again ; and he could 
at once descend from the elevation of his throne, to 
the pettiest considerations connected with his altered 
condition ; accommodating himself in a moment to 
all the variations of fortune. In a word, he was the 
Garrick of the great stage of the world, who could 
play the leading part in imperial Tragedy — carrying 
terror and pity into all bosoms — and re-appearing 
in the part of Scrub in the after-piece, with equal 
truth and fidelity of representation. We might 
admire the equanimity of such a temperament, if we 
did not find it associated with such a selfish and 
exclusive attention to his own personal safety, as 
robs it of all claims to our applause. After all, he 
is a truly extraordinary being — a wonderful creature, 
furnishing the most curious subject for examination 
to those who, abstractedly from all the national and 
political feelings of the present time, can consider 
him merely as a singular phenomenon, an anomalous 
variety in the strange history of human nature. 

Whatever we may think of him in England, he is 
the great idol of adoration in this country. The 
people carry a little bronze image of him — like a 
Roman household God — in their waistcoat pockets, 
which they kiss with every mark of affection ; and 
yet this very people helped to pull down the statues 
of the Emperor at his abdication. How is this to 
be explained, and what could have been the charms 



t?72 AUSTRIAN DOMINION. [JUNE, 

of Napoleon's dominion ? Is it the natural fickle- 
ness of mankind ? or is it that the people were 
taught to believe, when Napoleon should be put 
down, a better order of things would be established ; 
but finding now, that though he has lost every thing, 
they have gained nothing, a re-action has taken 
place in public opinion, and the sentiment in his 
favour is increased, by mixing up their own disap- 
pointment along with it. 

The Austrians rule Italy with a rod of iron ; or, 
as the Italians say, they rule it as if they were to be 
turned out of possession to-morrow. The conscrip- 
tion, the taxes, the rigid exclusion of English manu- 
factures are all continued; and the manner in which 
their oppressors exercise their rule is as offensive to 
the Italians as its spirit. They are utterly without 
the suaviter in modo, which made the French indi- 
vidually popular, in spite of their oppressions ; and 
the Italians always speak of the Tedeschi, as la 
brutta gente*. 

It is impossible not to sympathize with the Italians 
in their complaints ; but the domestic jealousy of 
one another, that exists amongst the different States, 

* The popular sentiment was strongly manifested, during the 
late visit of the Emperor of Austria to his Lombardo- Venetian, 
dominions. The Emperor was at the Opera at Venice, with 
Maria-Louisa, the wife of Napoleon. The audience were cla- 
morous in their applause, and so particular in directing it to 
the Ex-Empress, that, as the best way of appeasing the tumult, 
Maria-Louisa quitted the theatre. The audience, however, rose 
with her, and accompanied her home, leaving the Emperor of 
Austria 

" With a beggarly account of empty boxes !" 



1813.] AUSTRIAN DOMINION. 273 

will stand in the way of any general effort to throw 
off the foreign yoke, which galls them so severely ; 
to say nothing of that softness of character, approach- 
ing to imbecility, which seems to incapacitate them 
from sustaining the perils of such a struggle. Though 
there is much more firmness of tone in the character 
of the northern than of the southern inhabitants of 
Italy, yet my companion inveighed with vehement 
bitterness against the apathy of his countrymen ; 
and his constant prayer was, that the Austrians 
might carry their tyranny so far, as to inflict daily 
a hundred blows of the bastinado upon every Italian, 
expressing his willingness to be the first to submit 
to this discipline. Upon my asking him what he 
meant, he explained, that he thought this, and 
nothing less than this, might rouse his countrymen 
to a general insurrection, to free Italy from the 
intolerable oppression of their German masters. 

The spirit of the Austrian government was sig- 
nally displayed, in conferring upon a German the 
Archbishopric of Milan, the highest ecclesiastical 
preferment in their Italian territory, and worth about 
8000/. per annum. 

We have had some taste of the rigour of their police, 
in the vexatious examination of our passports and bag- 
gage at every town through which we have passed. 

The captain replies to all my sallies of impatience, 
by a significant shrug, adding, with a sort of sar- 
castic submission to his lot — Vce metis ! and then 
exclaiming, with an indefinable expression, 

" Exoriare aliquis nostris ex ossibus ultor!" 
We arrived late in the evening at Brescia. 

T 



274 JOURNEY TO MIL AX. [JUNE, 

3rd. Off again at sun-rise. It perhaps may be 
reckoned among the advantages of travelling with 
a vciturier — with whom " hicet, eamus /" is a stand- 
ing order of the day — that it soon accustoms you to 
rise at day-break without effort or fatigue. Nothing 
can be more uninteresting than the dull flat plain 
of Lombardy, where there is little to please any eye 
but the eye of the agriculturist. The land indeed 
is as rich and fat as land can be, yielding four hay- 
harvests in the year. Besides, the whole plain is 
almost one continued vineyard, and the vine is not 
here the little dwarfish plant that it is in other 
places, but is trained to hang from tree to tree in 
rich festoons, as it is described by Virgil. 

The mulberry is the common tree of the soil, 
which is cultivated rather for the sake of the leaves 
than the fruit. These are stripped off, as soon as 
they arrive at maturity, to feed the silk-worms. This 
operation had just been performed, and the poor 
naked trees looked wofully out of fashion, at this 
season, when every scrub of a bramble is dressed 
out in a new suit of green livery ; but nature soon 
provides another set of leaves, and the silk-worms 
get a second harvest. 

Our vetturino crawled along more slug'gishly than 
usual, and we had nothing to interest us in the way 
of novelty, but occasional fields of rice, which were 
a new sight to me. 

Halted for the night at Caravaggio. 

4th. Vive le Roi ! — My female companions talked 
a great deal to-day of England, and of English 
manners. They made the same charge against us 



1818.] ARRIVAL AT MILAN. 275 

which is made by all the world, of pride and 
hauteur. In the course of our route to day, we saw 
a chariot at a distance advancing towards us. The 
ladies clapped their hands together and cried out 
Eccolo ! Eccolo ! Inglesi I Inglesi ! I asked them 
how they knew at such a distance to what nation 
the carriage belonged, when they laughingly pointed 
to the female domestic on the box. They cannot 
see the propriety of the distance which is preserved 
between English masters and their domestics — 
especially female domestics. The sight of a female 
posted on the outside of the vehicle shocked their 
notions of the deference and courtesy due to the sex 
— all considerations of rank out of the question — 
and was considered by them as an unpardonable act 
of high-treason against the divine right of woman- 
hood ; nor could I make them understand that the 
Abigail was probably better pleased to accompany 
her fellow servant on the box, than to be admitted 
inside, subject to the constraint arising out of un- 
equal association. 



t 2 



*276 [june, 



CHAPTER XI. 

Milan — Lake of Como — Lago Maggiore — Borromean Isles — 
Simplon Road — Goitres — Cretins — Clarens — Chillon — In- 
undation at Martigny — Mont St. Bernard — Lake of Geneva 
— Lausanne. 

The approach to Milan is very grand ; as soon as 
yon pass the gate, yon enter a noble street, as broad 
as Piccadilly, with a wide trottoir on each side for 
foot-passengers. All this is the work of the French. 

Established myself at the Albergo Imperiale ; 
where I have engaged to give nine francs per day 
for my rooms, breakfast and dinner. 

There is something disagreeable at first to Eng- 
lish feelings, in making a previous bargain for your 
entertainment at an inn; but it is the only way of 
securing yourself from a greater evil — a final dis- 
pute. Those to whom economy is an object will 
find their advantage in this practice ; for if the inn- 
keeper is made to understand that you do not travel 
en grand Seigneur, as the ; great mass of English 
are supposed to do, he will moderate his demands 
to your own terms, rather than allow you to seek 
another inn. Amongst the minor mortifications of 
a limited purse, there are few more disagreeable 
than the necessity it imposes of attending to con- 
siderations from which the rich man is exempt. 
What's to pay? is the only question he need ask 
upon his travels — and the answer to him is of small 
importance. 






1818.] MILAN CATHEDRAL. 277 

5th. The Cathedral ; — a new cathedral, espe- 
cially if it be built of white marble, as is the case at 
Milan, is an ugly staring thing. In the inside there 
is a curious subterranean chapel, in which the body 
cf the Patron Saint, Charles of Borromeo, is de- 
posited. He was one of the best and most amiable 
men of his time, and was committed quietly to the 
peace of the grave, amidst the respect and regret of 
his contemporaries. Some twenty years after his 
death, however, his canonization took place ; upon 
which his body was removed from its former tene- 
ment, and deposited in state in this splendid tomb ; 
where he is now exhibited as a spectacle to every 
curious stranger, at so much a head. This little 
chapel is all gold and silver, and the saint himself, 
arrayed in splendid robes, is laid in a case of trans- 
parent crystal. The face is visible — " grinning 
horribly a ghastly smile" — as if he felt the bitter 
sarcasm conveyed by the contrast of his present 
situation with the motto of his life — Humilitas / 

Went to the Mint ; where you may see in a few 
minutes the whole process of coining, from the 
rough bar of silver to the finished piece of money. 

The whole of the machinery is worked by water ; 
that part of it which stamps the impression works 
1500 pieces in an hour. The last act of the pro- 
cess is verifying the coin. The balance used for 
this purpose is so delicately constructed, that the 
eight-hundredth part of a grain is sufficient to turn 
the scale. 

Napoleon certainly excelled all the world in 
money-making. His Italian coin is perfect — at 



278 MILAN AMPHITHEATRE. [jUNE, 

once handsome, commodious, and intelligible — and 
this last article is of great use to a stranger. In 
our own imitation of this coinage, how is a stranger 
to know that a shilling is a shilling — except by in- 
spiration ? In the Italian Mint, the coin speaks for 
itself, and the value is inscribed on it in legible 
characters. 

They still continue to stamp the gold pieces of forty 
and twenty francs, and the silver pieces of five francs, 
with the image of Napoleon. 

The coinage of the smaller money is discontinued. 

6th. Drove to the Piazza Castello, where there 
was a review of Austrian troops. The General rode 
on the ground, attended by his staff most sump- 
tuously caparisoned. The infantry were all padded 
out about the chest, and screwed in about the waist ; 
according to the fashion that has sprung up, of im- 
proving Nature's model. — " Heaven has given us 
one shape, and we make ourselves another." 

From hence I went to the Amphitheatre of Na- 
poleon, capable of containing 40,000 persons ; the 
seats are cut out of the shelving bank, and are co- 
vered with living turf. Here were given, in imita- 
tion of the games of antiquity, splendid fetes, with 
horse and chariot races, and naumachia. There are 
channels constructed for filling the area of the Am- 
phitheatre with water. 

A grand gala is now in preparation, to celebrate 
in the same place the birth-day of the present Vice- 
Roy, an Archduke of Austria. At the farther ex- 
tremity of the town, at the commencement of the 
Simplon route, is the unfinished arch of Triumph, 



1818.] MILAN TRIUMPHAL ARCH. 279 

which was designed to record the glory of Na- 
poleon. 

The bas-relief ornaments were all finished, re- 
presenting his victories over the Austrians ; — the 
surrender of General Mack, and his own triumphal 
entry into Milan ; and these things still remain, as 
if Austria thought the piece was not over, and that 
there might yet be 

K A rare fifth act to crown this huffing play/' 

when these decorations w r ould be called for. 

Leonardo da Vinci's famous picture of the Last 
Supper, in the refectory of the convent of the 
Madonna delle Grazie, is almost gone. The mag- 
nificent copy of it in mosaic, which was undertaken 
under the auspices of Napoleon, is finished ; but it 
has been sent oft to Vienna ! The excellencies of this 
great work, however, will still live in the admirable 
engraving of Morghen. 

Lounged in the evening in the public gardens, 
which form an agreeable promenade. Here is a 
theatre without a roof, open to the heavens, where 
an Italian tragedy was performed. 

One is so accustomed to stage lights, that a play 
by day-light strikes one as a monstrous perform- 
ance. And indeed, all prejudice out of the question, 
day-light destroys entirely the illusion of the scene ; 
— at least as long as the scenes are made of painted 
canvass, and the actor's dresses of tags and tinsel. 

If the stage were indeed the marble palace that 
it is made to represent — as was probably the case in 
the ancient theatres, if we may judge from the 



280 Milan — marionettes. [june, 

marble of the proscenium that still remains — and if 
every other decoration " savoured equally of the 
reality" — the light of day and of truth might be 
safely admitted. 

The play was dreadfully dull, and the actors 
" imitated nature most abominably." 

In the evening I went to the theatre of Mari- 
onettes, a very clever exhibition, where puppets of 
four feet high moved about, and performed all the 
action of the scene with great spirit and propriety, 
while the voices were supplied by persons from 
behind the scene ; — so that of the two entertain- 
ments it would be fair to say, that in the one the 
puppets acted like men, and in the other the men 
acted like puppets, 

7th. Cold wet day. Italian gossips. Universal 
outcry against the "paternal government" of Aus- 
tria. By the way, this cant phrase seems to be ap- 
propriated, as if in a spirit of mockery, to the very- 
worst governments in Europe; unless, indeed, it be 
taken from the old adage of " he who spareth the 
rod spoileth the child," which seems to be the lead- 
ing maxim of the paternal governments, in their 
conduct to their subject states. — Engaged a vettu- 
rino for twenty francs a day, to carry me to Lausanne, 
by any route I should choose, and to pay my board 
and lodging expenses on the road. 

8th. Rose at day-break; — but my vetturino 
showed the caitiff so strongly at the very first step, 
by a breach of his agreement, that I was obliged to 
determine my contract with him at once. 

Breakfasted at a cafe adjoining my hotel. Some 



1818.] MILANESE HONESTY. 281 

hours afterwards, in an opposite quarter of the town, 
I missed my purse, containing about seventy Na- 
poleons, which was all the money I had in the 
world. Remembering* that I had taken it out at 
breakfast, I immediately set out on my return to the 
cafe, though with very little expectation of recover- 
ing it. — As I walked along, I bethought me of the 
physiognomy of the waiter, and drew the most 
unfavourable conclusions from the knavish expres- 
sion which I began to recollect in it ; and then I 
arranged the best mode cf conducting my queries, 
with a view to arrive at the truth, in spite of the lies 
which I took it for granted I should have to en- 
counter. Upon entering the cafe, however, before I 
had spoken a word, he advanced towards me, with 
my purse in his hand, saying, — Ecco, Signore ! 

I record this, as one of the many but perhaps the 
strongest instance that I have met with, of the ho- 
nesty of the Italian people. This lad might have 
taken my purse without the possibility of detection, 
and almost without suspicion; for numbers of per- 
sons were then breakfasting in the room, and many 
others must have entered it during the time of my 
absence ; and the confusion and crowd of an Italian 
cafe would have made it the easiest thing in the 
world for any one to take up the purse with the 
newspaper that I left with it on the table. 

Went in the evening to the theatre ; where Al- 
fieri's tragedy of Mirra was performed. The subject 
is revolting ; but Alfieri has managed it with great 
skill, and in the representation there is nothing to 
disgust. On the contrary, I have seldom seen a 



2S2 . LAKE OF CO:>IO. [jUNE, 

tragedy where the distress is more affecting. The 
actress who played Mirra did it to the life ; — her 
first entrance told the whole story of the play ; and 
the part is so managed, as to excite pity and sym- 
pathy for Mirra, in spite of the odious passion of 
which she is the victim. If terror and pity he the 
objects of tragedy, the part of Mirra is admirably 
contrived to excite both these feelings in the highest 
degree; for, while you shudder at the terrible 
workings and fearful energy of her passion, the 
struggles of her own native innocence of mind, and 
the horror with which she regards herself, make the 
strongest appeal to your compassion. 

They manage their Theatres better, in one respect 
at least, than we do in England. The hour of com- 
mencement, instead of being the same all the year 
round, varies with the season, — and the curtain 
does not rise till the sun has set. 

9th. Having accidentally encountered a voiturier, 
whose carriage and appointments are better than 
usual, I have engaged him to carry me, and me 
alone, whithersoever I will, for twenty francs a day * 
which is to include the common expenses on the 
road. My first stage has been to Como ; and I have 
passed the day on the lake, enjoying all the pleasure 
that a fine landscape can give. What that pleasure 
is, would, perhaps, be more difficult to describe than 
the landscape itself, differing so much as it does in 
different people ; for how much more will one per- 
son see in a landscape than another, and even the 
same person than himself, at different times ! He 
certainly made a notable discovery who first laid it 



1818.] LAKE OF COMO. 283 

down that beauty does not reside in things them- 
selves, but in the eye that sees it ; and every eye 
sees a different beauty. I have heard a man argue 
that there was nothing in nature equal to the 
scenery of Covent Garden ; Dr. Johnson used to say 
there was nothing like Fleet-street ; and every man, 
I believe, thinks the finest prospect in the world is 
that which commands a view over his own land. 

But he is little to be envied who is dead to the 
enthusiasm of nature, whose heart and feelings are 
out of the reach of her influence, and who is insen- 
sible to the tranquil enjoyment which is derived 
from the contemplation of such charming pictures 
as the Lake of Como will present to him. 

The spot from which this noble lake is seen to 
most advantage, is from a point immediately oppo- 
site the Fiume di Latte, a romantic little waterfall, 
which forms a succession of miniature cascades, 
from a height of several hundred feet, amongst the 
vineyards with which the side of the mountain is 
planted. There is a spot, opposite to this waterfall, 
from which you command a prospect of the whole 
scene, without the disadvantage of a bird's-eye view. 
You have the three branches of the lake under your 
eye at once. The principal one extends northward, 
in the direction of Chiavenna ; with the mountains 
of Vol Tellina, and the Julian Alps, for its more 
distant boundary. Full in front is the Monte Leg- 
none ; which, though not ranking, as Eustace ranks 
it, amongst the highest Alps, nor retaining its snow 
in summer, is yet, from its bold rugged form, and 
its insulated position, one of the grandest and most 



234 LAKE OF COMO; [JUNE, 

commanding- of them. To the south you look upon 
the other two branches leading to Lecco, and to 
Como. This branch of the lake, from Menagio 
to Como, is of a very different character from the 
northern branch ; and though it is very beautiful, 
and at once wild and highly cultivated — with its 
banks studded with villas and villages — yet it wants 
the grander features of the northern prospect. At 
the villa Pliniana, the well, with its rustic masonry, 
is apparently in much the same state as in Pliny's 
time, whose descriptive epistle is engraven on a 
tablet in the wall. The lake abounds with fish. I 
came up with the boats of a party of fishermen as 
they were hauling in their nets, in which was a fine 
trout of fourteen pounds. 

The inhabitants of the country about Como have 
a rage for seeing" the world. They traverse all 
countries with pictures and barometers for sale ; and 
when they have scraped together a little money, 
they return from their wanderings to pass the even- 
ings of their days and lay their bones in their own 
country — a desire that seems to be natural to all 
mankind — " dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos." 

The itinerant Italians, who carry on this traffic in 
England, will nine times in ten be found to come 
from Como. 

10th. Passed through Varese to Laveno, where 
I embarked my carriage to pass over the Lago Mag- 
giore to Baveno, while I put myself into another 
boat to make a wider survey of the scenery of the 
lake. 

There is nothing in this, nor perhaps in any other 



ISIS.] EORROMEAN ISLES. 2S5 

lake, that can be put in competition with the view 
from that point of the lake of Como which I have 
before alluded to; but the Lacjo Maggiore is, I 
think, more interesting than the southern branch of 
the Como lake ; because, w T ith the same soft features 
in the bosom scenery, there is, in the character of 
the hills immediately on its brink, a boldness and 
grandeur, which heighten the impression of the 
w hole by the powerful aid of contrast. 

Amongst this bosom scenery, if the expression 
may be allowed, are the Borromean Islands : — Isold 
Bella, and I sola Madre ; — the magic creation of 
labour and taste. Originally barren rocks, they 
have been furnished with soil, and planted with 
groves of cedar, cypress, citron, and orange trees, 
and decorated with gardens, grottoes, and terraces. 
In the midst of this fairy land, w r hich might serve 
as a model for a description of the island of 
Calypso, is the Palace, as it is called ; which is not 
the stately, comfortless pile usually designated by 
that name, but a delightful villa, combining elegance 
with comfort. I observed here, what I have not seen 
elsewhere ; the statues have a drapery of real gauze 
thrown about them, which does not, in fact, conceal 
any thing, though it seems to do so. The effect is 
not unpleasing ; and, if it be the result of prudery, 
it is a much better expedient than a fig-leaf. 

I could have lingered at Baveno a month, during 
this delicious season; and I was on the point of 
dismissing my voiturier ; but something is con- 
stantly whispering in my ear to hasten to Lausanne, 
where I expect letters from England. How r are we 



286 REFLECTIONS OF PRESCIENCE. [JUNE, 

to explain that presentiment of what is to come, or 
of what has already happened at a distance from us, 
whether of good or evil — though chiefly, I believe, 
of the latter — which every body has felt more or less ? 
It may be doubted how much, or even whether any, 
deference should be paid to those secret intimations. 
For my own part, I am not prepared to disregard 
them altogether. If it be a delusion, it is as old as 
Socrates, and may rank him amongst its victims. 
There is something strange and inexplicable in it ; 
but so there is in all the links of that mysterious 
chain of attraction and repulsion, affinity and hos- 
tility, sympathy and antipathy, by which all the parts 
of nature are united and separated. Second-sight, 
as it is called, by which, according to some, the fate 
of the absent has been often so unaccountably com- 
municated, may be but one of the many phenomena 
of this mysterious system, of which we know so little. 
There may be nothing really more surprising in this 
— though we are less able to explain it — than in the 
common fact of striking upon the cord of a violin, 
which produces a corresponding vibration in another 
that is in unison with it ; — unless, indeed, we are 
prepared to decide that human heart-strings are 
made of less susceptible stuff than the strings of a 
fiddle. 

11th. Baveno is on the grand Simplon road, 
which I now entered upon for the first time. It is 
lined on both sides with short granite pillars, about 
the size of a common English mile-stone, placed, in 
regular succession, at very short intervals — scarcely 
more than six feet apart — which, on the edge of a 



1816.] SIMPLON ROAD. 287 

precipice, are also surmounted with a wooden rail. 
The scenery soon becomes interesting, hut it is not 
till you pass Domo d' Ossola, and begin to wind up 
the Val Vedro, that you are introduced into the heart 
and core of the Alpine recesses. 

Near Crevola, where you begin to ascend, there 
lies on one side of the road a vast column of granite, 
wrought from a neighbouring quarry ; which was 
on its way to Milan, to form a part of Napoleon's 
triumphal arch, when the news of his reverses ar- 
rested its progress. It is, perhaps, in its present 
situation, a more striking monument of fallen great- 
ness, than it would have been at Milan of prosperous 
ambition. 

In passing through the sublime and stupendous 
scenery of this part of the Alps, Napoleon will have 
no inconsiderable share in exciting your wonder; 
especially if you are a disciple of that sect which sees 
nothing sublime or beautiful that is not founded on 
utility. 

For while you gaze with astonishment at the 
monstrous masses which nature has here heaped one 
upon another, in every mode of shapeless desolation, 
and feel that sensation of awe which it is the effect 
of such scenery to produce, by impressing the mind 
with a vague but overwhelming idea of the power of 
the mighty Master of nature — it is impossible not to 
be filled with admiration of the man who had the 
boldness to undertake, and the genius to accomplish, 
a complete triumph over such fearful obstacles. In 
this, as in many other instances, he has far exceeded 
all former achievements. Hannibal, it is true, passed 



238 SXMPLON ROAD. [jUNE, 

the Alps at the head of his army ; but Napoleon not 
only did this, but, as a lasting record of his contempt 
of all impediments, physical as well as moral, that 
stood in the way of the execution of his purpose, he 
has left this " royal road" by which every puny 
whipster may do the same, without the precaution 
even of dragging the wheel of his carriage. 

This great work does, I think, eclipse all the 
fabled exploits which Grcecia mendax, or Roma 
mendacior, has handed down to us. Xerxes' adven- 
ture with Mount Athos was nothing to it. Napoleon 
has burst through solid rocks, that would have defied 
Hannibal with all his vinegar ; he has abridged 
rivers — in a word — he has played the very devil. 
The rocks frown at you, and seem 

" To wonder how the devil you got there ; " 

while they hang over your head, as if preparing every 
moment to come thundering down with a tremendous 
" TTscovcs kuXlvceto" to punish you for daring to in- 
vade their secret and solemn solitudes, and make 
" At once your murder and your monument." 

In fact, Napoleon has so catamaranned the foun- 
dations, that more than one ecroulement has already 
taken place. It is remarkable that he never tra- 
versed this road himself. It was begun and finished 
in five years ; but it is to be feared, from the negli- 
gence evinced in repairing it, that the indolence or 
the policy of the present rulers may suffer it to fall 
into decay. 

Austria, it is said, does not view with the same 
admiration that a traveller does the facility of in- 



1818.] SIMPLON ROAD. 289 

gress into Italy which is afforded by this and the 
Mont Cenis road — the sister work of Napoleon. 
She would much rather increase* than diminish the 
difficulty of access from that quarter of Europe, 
being quite content with her own approach through 
the Tyrol, by way of Trent and Verona. 

This is very natural ; and in this spirit, it is said, 
she has exercised her influence with Sardinia to pre- 
vent the farther completion of the road from Genoa 
to Leghorn, which had been begun by Napoleon. 

I lingered so long on the way, that darkness came 
upon us before I was aware, and I was obliged to 
halt at a wretched hovel at I sella, 

12th. I was glad to rise as soon as it was light, 
and escape, from the filth and vermin of the cock- 
loft in which I had passed the night, to the fine fresh 
morning air of the mountains. 

Soon after leaving Iseila, we passed the Swiss 
frontier, and after a long ascent, reached the village 
of the Simplon. This part of the Valais was incor- 
porated into the French empire, but has now re- 
turned to its ancient connexion with the Swiss 
confederacy. At the top of the hill is the unfinished 
hopital, which was intended for the residence of the 
Capuchin monks, whose business and occupation it 
is to assist and provide entertainment for travellers, 

* As an illustration of this, I might notice the vexatious re- 
quisition of an Austrian signature to the passports of all strangers 
entering the Lombardo-Venetian territory, which has delayed 
or sent back so many travellers approaching from Switzerland ; 
who, in ignorance of this regulation, often omit to get their 
passports countersigned by the Austrian Minister at Berne. 

u 



290 SIMPLON ROAD. [jUNE, 

and who are now stationed in a less convenient situa- 
tion. The new building is on a very large and 
handsome scale, but the progress of it has been ar- 
rested, like that of the granite column, by the down- 
fall of Napoleon. There is now little hope of its 
ever being completed ; at least the poverty of the 
state, to which it at present belongs — the Valais — is 
confessedly unequal to such works. 

The zigzag ascent and descent are so skilfully 
managed, that you may trot up and down, without 
difficulty or danger. The character of the scenery, 
on the Swiss side, is much less bold and grand than 
on the Italian. The Val Vedro contains every in- 
gredient of the sublime that can be found in natural 
scenery — Mountain — Rock — Precipice — Torrent — 
Water-fall — Forest — in all their wildest forms ; — 
but when you arrive at the summit of the Simplon, 
you are presented with a softer scene, and look down 
upon the verdant valleys of Switzerland. The first 
impression of this land of liberty is very favourable. 
The little cottage inns, if I may judge from this of 
Bryg, where I have concluded the journey of to-day, 
are neat even to elegance; and there is in every thing 
an attention to comfort and cleanliness, which will 
remind an Englishman of his own mother-country. 

13th. Intensely hot. Pursued my course through 
the Valais ; — but I must cease to " babble of green 
fields." As for natural scenery, even sketches con- 
vey but a faint idea ; — and descriptive sketches are 
ten times worse. The poverty of language is never 
so apparent, as when you seek to represent by words 
the infinite varieties of nature. 



1818.] SIMPLON ROAD. 291 

Descriptions, to be of any value, should be pecu- 
liar and appropriate ; but how general and indefinite 
are the terms which you must use, if you are obliged 
to paint in words ; and how little is conveyed by the 
whole catalogue of phrases which the most fertile 
imagination can supply ! If, indeed, by mixing up 
these phrases like colours on a pallet, you could pro- 
duce the same variety of tints, it might be as easy to 
represent a landscape with the pen as the pencil. 
All however that the pen can do, I believe, is to give 
the poetical part of the picture ; by which I mean 
that part of it which appeals to the eye of the ima- 
gination, in the associations which the mind connects 
with the contemplation of the scene described ; and 
and in this, the pen may perhaps have the advantage. 
But, as to presenting a clear and intelligible picture 
of a complicated landscape by verbal description, I 
believe it to be impossible. The best and most pic- 
turesque representations of this kind are perhaps to 
be found in the writings of the inimitable author of 
Waver ley ; but I doubt whether even his sketches 
ever present any distinct image to the mind of the 
reader. I do not deny that his charming descrip- 
tions of nature, in her loveliest and boldest aspects, 
afford the greatest pleasure in the perusal ; — all I 
contend for is, that the pleasure is of a vague and 
general character, and not derived from a clear per- 
ception of the particular features of the scene de- 
scribed. — Slept at Sion. 

14th. There is a great sameness in the views in 
the Vale of the Rhone. The road runs along the 
bank of the river the whole way; both pursuing 
their course in nearly a straight line. 



292 GOITRES CRETINS. [JUNE, 

The Cretins are sad disgusting' objects. I was 
prepared to expect the goitre : — 

c; Quis tumid um guttur miratur in Alpibus?" — Juv. 

It would seem as if nature in these regions could 
not help breaking out into excrescence, as well in 
the animate as in the inanimate part of her creation. 

This loathsome appendage has been attributed to 
many causes. It has been supposed, though without 
foundation, that it is peculiar to those valleys which 
run from east to west ; and that it is not found in 
those that run from north to south. A more general 
notion has been, that it arises from the qualities of 
the water, which is here little more than melted 
snow. But the more probable supposition is, that 
it is the consequence of breathing the damp foggy 
air which is condensed in valleys situated between 
the ranges of high mountains; — for the same disease 
is found in mountainous regions where no snow exists. 

This is the suggestion of Marsden, who, in his 
History of Sumatra, describes a similar disease in 
the billy districts of that country; where the val- 
leys are exposed to the caboot, or thick fog, to the 
influence of wbicb cold vapour be very rationally at- 
tributes the tumours in the throats of the inhabitants. 

Cretinage seems also to be peculiar to mountainous 
regions, though the cause and connexion are, in this 
case, still more inexplicable. It is found in the 
Pyrenees ; and also, according to Sir G. Staunton, 
in the mountainous parts of China ; and, in these 
cases, there is no common similarity of situation or 
climate, to indicate a common cause — except the 
single circumstance of hi Illness. 



1818.] THE PISSE-VACHE. 293 

It is well for these poor helpless creatures, that 
the superstition of the country causes them to be 
regarded with more than common affection, as the 
peculiar favourites of Heaven ; for, being incapable 
of criminal intention, they are considered as exempt 
from the obligations of moral responsibility, and as 
privileged exceptions from the common lot of man- 
kind, who are doomed to be born in sin. 

But Switzerland is not the only paradise of fools.* 
In Egypt an idiot is held in still higher estimation, 
and even worshipped as a saint : — 

" If ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." 

T have been much struck to-day with the neat- 
ness and personal beauty of the female peasantry, 
dressed in their Sunday costume. They still deserve 
the praises which St. Preux bestows upon them in 
his letter to Julie, describing the Haut-Valais, and 
they still retain " leurs petites coiffures noires, et 
le reste de leur ajustement, qui ne manque ni de 
simp licit e, ni cPelegance." 

Dined at Martigny ; — afterwards, in my way to 
Bex, stopped to examine the pis se-v ache ; a cascade, 
of which Coxe says, that " he had seen higher water- 

* Sir Robert Wilson, in his Expedition to Egypt, says, " In 
Egypt a fool is worshipped as a saint, and at Cairo they have 
many particular privileges; but the most singular is trie super- 
stition which favours them so as to make their children con- 
sidered the peculiar favourites of Heaven ; therefore, in the 
public streets the most virtuous women have no scruples to 
them, and passengers, instead of disturbing, pray over their 
union. A woman so with child is highly esteemed amongst 
her own sex. ;> 



294 BEX VILLENEUVE. [JUNE, 

falls, but none more beautiful." Since his time — 
forty years ago— rits beauties have been diminished 
by the operations of a miller; who, having built a 
mill under the fall, found it convenient to break 
away much of the projecting rock, to prevent the 
dispersion of the stream. The mill exists no longer : 
— the mischief remains ; — but it is still a beautiful 
waterfall. Situated as it is by the road-side, and 
therefore accessible without any trouble, it is per- 
haps for that very reason less valued and less visited. 
For there is a stimulant in difficulties to be over- 
come ; and indeed it is certain, that retirement of 
situation would give an additional charm to the 
beauties of the pisse-vache. Arrived early in the 
evening at Bex, where there is one of the very best 
inns in the world, and truly characteristic of the 
neat and elegant simplicity of Switzerland. 

In Italy all the domestics of an inn are men, who 
perform the offices of waiters and chambermaids: 
here it is directly the reverse ; and while attended 
by the Swiss Hebes of Bex, you may feel the force 
of St. Preux's remark : — " avec la figure des Va- 
laisanes, des servantes memes rendroient leurs ser- 
vices embarrassantsP 

15th. At Villeneuve I came in full view of the 
lake of Geneva. From Villeneuve to Vevay the 
road is beautiful, and every step of it passes through 
the fairy land of poetry and romance. The " snow- 
white battlement" of Chillon — the " sejour char- 
mant " of Clarens — and " Lake Leman with its 
crystal face," beautiful as they are in reality, speak 
to us with more than the dumb voice of nature, 



1818.] ARRIVAL AT LAUSANNE. 295 

through the glowing periods of Rousseau, and the 
immortal verse of Byron. 

At Clarens, the shrubberies, and walks, and the 
bosquets, so minutely described in Rousseau, exist 
no longer ; they have long since given way to plan- 
tations of potatoes, corn, &c. ; for, as my honest 
host at Vevay observed, in allusion to the Nouvelle 
Htloise- — " Romances are good things, but bread 
is better." 

From Vevay to Lausanne you pass through one 
continued vineyard all the way. The landscape is 
very pleasing, but it scarcely deserves the raptures 
of St. Preux, who, on his return from his tour round 
the world with Lord Anson to his native Pays de 
Vaud, describes it as " ce pay sage unique — le plus 
beau dont Vceil humainfut jamais frappe, ce sejour 
charmant auquel je rf avals rien trouve d'egal dans 
le tour du monde" 

In arriving at Lausanne, I drove immediately to 
the house of M. de Seigneux, to whom I had been 
recommended, who receives strangers into his house 
en pension. My first inquiry was for my letters, 
— which quieted all my anxieties. Those only who 
have experienced them can form an idea of the feel- 
ings with which a traveller retires to his own room 5 
to enjoy alone and at leisure the luxury of long- 
expected letters from home. 

17th. Paid a visit to the house in which Gibbon 
resided, which is within a few doors of us. Paced 
his terrace, and explored the summer-house, of which 
he speaks in relating, with so much interesting de- 
tail, the conclusion of his historical labours : — " It 



296 EXCURSION TO MARTIGNY. [jUNE, 

was on the day, or rather night, of the 27th of June, 
1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that 
I wrote the last lines of the last page, in a summer- 
house in my garden. After laying down my pen, 
I took several turns in a bcrceau, or covered walk 
of acacias, which commands a prospect of the coun- 
try, the lake, and the mountains. The air was tem- 
perate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon 
was reflected from the waves, and all nature was 
silent." Gibbon's library still remains, but it is 
buried and lost to the world* It is the property of 
Mr. Beckford, and lies locked up in an uninhabited 
house at Lausanne. 

18th. Excursion to Martigny — to witness the 
dreadful effects of the late inundation. The cause 
of this calamity was as follows. Some months ago 
a glacier had fallen down in the valley of Bagne, 
choking up the course of a small river, and forming 
the head of what in time became a very extensive 
lake. The inhabitants, fearing that as the warm 
weather advanced this dam might thaw and give 
way, had cut a gallery through the ice to let off the 
water ; by which, if the dam had remained firm a 
few days longer, the whole lake would have been 
emptied without causing any damage. But on 
Tuesday the ] 6th the head of the lake gave way — 
and down came the waters with a prodigious rush, 
sweeping all before them. 

lapides adesos, 

Stirpesque raptas, et pecus, et domos 
Volventis uua. 

If it had happened in the night, all Martigny 



1S18.] INUNDATION AT MARTIGNY. 297 

must have perished. Four hundred houses were 
washed away in a moment, as you knock down a 
building of cards. The poor host of the Swan inn, 
who presided at the table d'hote where I dined on 
Sunday the 14th, was on Tuesday swallowed up in 
an instant, in his own garden; — and away went 
stables, carriages, and horses, in all directions. 
Perhaps it was my good genius that whispered me 
so constantly to hasten to Lausanne, and who pre- 
vented my halting at Martigny, as I had once 
thought of doing, in order to go from thence to Cha- 
mouny. If it were, I fear I am not so grateful to 
him as I ought to be ; for I would willingly have 
been a spectator of this dreadful visitation, even at 
the risk of being its victim. A poor painter was in 
the valley of Bagne, sketching this lake, at the time 
the dam gave way, and his escape was little less 
than a miracle. He has made a drawing of the 
perils that surrounded him. If he were a man of 
talent, such a scene ought to furnish him with ma- 
terials for a picture of the Deluge, which has pro- 
bably never been painted from nature. The scene 
at Martigny beggars description ; — ruin and havoc 
are every where. Water seems to be a more dread- 
ful agent even than fire in the work of destruction. 
The operation of fire is at least gradual, and affords 
some chance of escape ; but water is a radical de- 
stroyer, and jumps at once to the conclusion. A 
single fact will be sufficient to convey an idea of the 
rapidity with which the work of demolition was 
effected ; — the water travelled at the rate of twenty 
miles an hour. 



298 MONT ST. BERNARD. [JUNE, 

The loss of lives is great, and the loss of property 
still greater. Those who have escaped with life — 
and only life — are perhaps most to be pitied. They 
have not only lost their all ; but the very ground, 
upon which their houses and crops stood, is a desert, 
covered with a coat of gravel and rubbish, and ren- 
dered utterly unfit for future cultivation. The de- 
spair of the poor creatures is very affecting ; they 
rub their eyes — like the King in the Fairy Tale 
when he no longer saw Aladdin's Palace — as if they 
doubted the evidence of their senses. 

What a passing world this is ! and how foolish it 
is to fret and worry ourselves about the petty vexa- 
tions of such a transient existence ; — at least such is 
the lesson which the contemplation of a scene like 
that of Martigny preaches, with more than the elo- 
quence of words. 

20th. Excursion to Mont St. Bernard. The 
convent is situated about 8,000 feet above the level 
of the sea, and is the highest habitable spot in Eu- 
rope. The approach to it, for the last hour of the 
ascent, is steep and difficult. The convent is not 
seen till you arrive within a few hundred yards of it. 
It breaks upon the view all at once, at a turn in the 
rock. Upon a projecting crag near it stood one of 
the celebrated dogs, baying at our advance, as if to 
give notice of strangers. These dogs are of large 
size, particularly high upon the legs, and generally 
of a milk-white, or of a tabby colour. They are most 
extraordinary creatures — if all the stories the monks 
tell you of them are true. They are used for the 
purpose of searching for travellers who may be buried 



1818.] CONVENT OF ST. BERNARD. 299 

in the snow ; and many persons are rescued annually 
from death by their means. During the last winter, 
a traveller arrived at the convent in the midst of a 
snow-storm, having been compelled to leave his wife, 
who was unable to proceed farther, at about a quar- 
ter of a mile's distance. A party of the Monks im- 
mediately set out to her assistance, and found her 
completely buried under the snow. The sagacity 
of the dogs alone was the cause of her deliverance, 
for there was no visible trace ; and it is difficult to 
understand how the scent can be conveyed through 
a deep covering of snow. 

It is stated that the Monks themselves, when out 
upon search for travellers, have frequently owed 
their preservation to their dogs, in a manner which 
would seem to show that the dogs are endued with a 
presentiment of danger. 

Many stories of this kind have been told, and I 
was anxious to ascertain their truth. The Monks 
stated two or three cases where the dogs had actually 
prevented them from returning to the convent by 
their accustomed route ; when it afterwards turned 
out, that, if they had not followed the guidance of 
their dog in his deviation, they would have been 
overwhelmed by an avalanche. Whether the dog 
may be endued with an intuitive foreboding of dan- 
ger — or whether he may have the faculty of detecting 
symptoms not perceptible to our duller senses — 
must be determined by philosophers. Be this as it 
may — even the dogs are sometimes deceived, and, 
with their masters, are overwhelmed in the avalanches 
that are frequently falling in the spring of the year. 



300 CONVENT OF ST. BERNARD. [JUNE, 

About eighteen months ago, two of the domestics of 
the convent, with two or three dogs, and a party of 
travellers who had been waiting with the courier 
from Italy, were lost in an avalanche. The bodies 
of these unfortunate persons may now be seen in the 
Charnel-house of the Convent of St. Bernard, where 
they are preserved, in order that there may be chance 
of their being identified by their friends. The cold- 
ness of the climate tends to retard putrefaction ; but, 
at this time, no feature is distinguishable. 

Buonaparte crossed this mountain with 60,000 
men, with whom he afterwards fought the battle of 
Marengo. He halted for two hours at the convent 
with a few of his staff, and took some refreshment, 
but forbad the soldiers to enter or disturb the re- 
treat of the Monks. I saw the spot where his life 
was saved by his guide. Buonaparte passed on 
without noticing the obligation at the time; but, 
upon his return from the victory of Marengo, he 
sent for the man, and presented him a purse of sixty 
Napoleons. The guide still lives, and is called 
Buonaparte. 

21st. We left the convent deeply impressed with 
the hospitable and kind manners of the superior and 
his brethren. The support of the establishment is 
greatly dependant on charitable contributions ; but 
it has lately suffered considerable loss, by the swind- 
ling device of some impostors, who — assuming the 
garb of the missionaries which the convent is in the 
habit of sending annually round the country to so- 
licit support — contrived to levy very extensive con- 
tributions. 



1818.] RETURN TO LAUSANNE, 301 

In descending the hill, I looked into a sort of 
sheep-cot, about two miles below the convent. Here 
lay the skeleton of a man, in the garb in which he 
was originally deposited. The hat still remained 
on the skull, and his great coat lay spread beneath 
his bones. 

24th. In my way back to Lausanne I halted at 
Vevay, took a boat with three watermen, and crossed 
the lake to Meillerie ; but I sought in vain for the 
secluded spot so romantically described by Rousseau, 
where St. Preux is supposed to have led Madame de 
Wolmar, after their escape from the storm. 

Rousseau's description, however, of the view from 
the lake, is as accurate as possible ; and I was now 
in the track of St. Preux — 

Nousavancamesenpleineeau; je dirigeai tellement 
au milieu du lac que nous nous trouvames bientot a 
plus d'une lieue du rivage. La, j'expliquais a Julie 
toutes les parties du superbe horizon qui nous en- 
touroit. Je lui montrois de loin les embouchures du 
Rhone, dont l'impetueux cours s'arrete tout-a-coup 
au bout d'un quart de lieue, et semble craindre de 
souiller de ses eaux bourbeuses le crystal azure du 
lac. Je lui faisois observer les redans des mon- 
tagnes, dont les angles correspondants et parralleles 
forment, dans l'espace qui les separe, un lit digne 
du fleuve qui le remplit. En 1'ecartant de nos cutes, 
j'aimois a lui faire admirer les riches et charmantes 
rives du Pays de Vaud, ou la quantite des villes, 
Pinnombrable foule de peuple, les coteaux verdoy- 
ants et pares de toutes parts forment un tableau 
ravissant; ou la terre, partout eultive'e et partout 



302 LAUSANNE. [AUG. 

fc'conde, offre au laboureur, au patre, au vigneron, le 
fruit assure de leurs peiues, que ne devore point 
Pavide publicain. Puis lui montrant le Chablais 
sur la cote opposee, (pays non moins favorise de la 
nature, et qui n'offre pourtant qu'un spectacle de 
misere) je lui faisois sensiblement distinguer les 
differ ents effets des deux gouvernements, pour la 
richesse, le nombre, et le bonheur des hommes. C'est 
ainsi, lui disoisje, que la terre ouvre son sein fertile, 
et prodigue ses tresors aux heureux peuples qui la 
cultivent pour eux-memes. 

The contrast between the coast of Chablais , and 
that of the Pays de Vand, still remains in full force, 
and, by way of commentary upon the text of Rous- 
seau, I might cite the decrees and regulations stuck 
up in all the inns of Savoy, since the late changes; 
where, amongst other arbitrary articles, there is one 
which strictly forbids any person to be seen in the 
streets after ten at night ; and the other prohibits 
all assemblies from dancing in public. Private 
balls in private families are graciously allowed, pro- 
vided, however, that it be done " sans rumeur et 
avec decence." Conversing with an inhabitant of 
the country, I asked him whether the people were 
contented and happy under the government of Sar- 
dinia : " Oh yes," said he, " we are as happy as fish 
in a frying-pan." 

June 26th to August 15th. A life of idleness. 
M. de Seigneux's establishment combines every thing 
that can make a guest comfortable. Monsieur S. is 
a gentleman, in the whole extent of that term ; and 
Madame has every quality that a guest would most 



1818.] LAUSANNE GOVERNMENT. 303 

desire in the mistress of such an establishment. 
Amongst all her attractions, there is perhaps none 
more remarkable, than that active, well-informed 
common-sense, which is awake at all times and on 
all subjects. This is the most companionable of all 
qualities ; especially when, as in this case, it is joined 
with great good-nature, and unmixed with a single 
grain of affectation. The house opens into a garden, 
and on this side of it we are completely in the coun- 
try ; looking upon a fine expanse of water, backed 
by the hills of Savoy, with a rich fore-ground of 
meadows and vineyards descending to the lake, which 
is about a mile distant from us. By opening the 
street-door we are in the town, and in the best part 
of it. If a man wish to be alone, his own room is 
his castle ; if he wish to mix with society, he will 
find the best company of Lausanne in M. de Seig- 
neux's parlour. Perhaps society is never so free and 
unconstrained as in an establishment of this kind; — 
there can be no lurking mistrust in the mind of 
either host or guest, to poison the pleasure of their 
association. This assurance of welcome is well 
worth buying at any price ; and, if either party be 
dissatisfied, the account is demanded or presented, — 
and there is an end of the matter. 

Sterne says, if he were in a condition to stipulate 
with death, he should wish to encounter him at an 
inn ; — but perhaps Sterne had never lived in such a 
pension as this ; which is the very place for a man 
to live or die, in the most quiet and comfortable 
manner. 

The Pays de Vaud, of which Lausanne is the ca- 
pital, was for two centuries and a half under the do- 



304 LAUSANNE REVOLUTION. [AUG. 

minion of Bern, if such a term can be applied to so 
mild a system of government. For, during the 
whole of this period, it would appear that no tax 
whatever was levied by the sovereign state upon the 
dependent province. 

Bern, in possessing itself of the Pays de Vaud, 
took possession also of the estates, which the Dukes 
of Savoy and the Bishops of Lausanne held in this 
little territory ; and the produce of these was suffi- 
cient to defray the expenses of the administration of 
the government. 

Things were in this state when the French revo- 
lution broke out. Switzerland was too near not to 
catch the infection ; and the contest between the 
have-somethings and the have-nothings — the two 
great parties into which Sancho divides mankind — 
ended, as usual in such contests, [in a complete revo- 
lution of the government ; which had hitherto been 
confined to the aristocracy, but which was now vested 
in a Landmann, and a representative council, chosen 
by the people at large. 

But it perhaps may be doubted whether the Pays 
de Vaud have not lost more than she has gained by 
this revolution. She has, it is true, thrown off the 
yoke of Bern ; she has gained the rank of an inde- 
pendent state ; and she has obtained a free constitu- 
tion ; but the public property which used to defray 
the expenses of the state has been somehow or other 
lost in the scramble ; and the acquirement of can- 
tonal independence has been saddled with the impo- 
sition of taxes, which may lead the people to doubt 
whether their old robes did not sit easier than their 
new. 



1818.] LAUSANNE POLICE. 303 

Much attention is paid in this, as in the other 
republics of Switzerland, to repress the growth of 
luxury ; and to check by the interference of the 
police all fashionable innovations, which may seem 
to threaten the corruption of the simplicity of repub- 
lican manners. 

An English gentleman lately gave a private ball, 
at which the ladies of course continued dancing long 
after the hours prescribed by the plebeian laws of 
Lausanne. The police made some attempts to fine 
all the persons concerned \ but finding it difficult to 
establish the proof, they contented themselves with 
imposing the usual fine upon the master of the house. 
He refused to pay it ; and the issue of this question 
was expected with some interest, when it was set at 
rest by some friend of peace, who, as it would ap- 
pear, secretly paid the penalty on behalf of the de- 
fendant. He was however so indignant, at having 
been supposed to comply with a demand which he 
considered unjust, that he offered a reward, by pub- 
lic advertisement in the Gazette of Lausanne, for 
the discovery of the person who had thus interfered. 

The religion of Lausanne is Calvinistic ; — but 
though we are so near the head-quarters of " Bro- 
ther Jack" — there are no symptoms of that morti- 
fying and ascetic spirit, which so often distinguishes 
the followers of Calvin. 

To instance, for example, the observance of Sun- 
day. Every body goes to church ; and so sacred is 
the period considered which is consecrated to public 
worship, that it would be an offence of which the 
public would take cognizance, to disturb the streets, 

x 



306 LAUSANNE SABBATH. [AUG. 

even by driving your carriage through the town, 
during the time of divine service. 

But, the offices of worship at an end, the leisure 
hours of the day are devoted to rational recreations ; 
— and if Sunday be distinguished at all, it is by a 
more than ordinary cheerfulness and gaiety. Music 
and the common domestic amusements proceed as 
usual, without any apprehensions that the recording 
angel is noting these things down as abominations. 
Sunday, in short, is kept without any of that gloomy 
formality, which seems to be thought by some es- 
sential to piety; — it is regarded rather as a feast 
than a fast, — being the day dedicated to the preach- 
ing of that gospel which brought " glad tidings of 
great joy to all people." 

The difficulty in this, as in other cases, is to pre- 
serve a just medium ; to remember the purpose for 
which the sabbath was instituted and " made holy," 
without falling into the sour severities which were 
first introduced by the Puritans, — a sect that seems 
to have borne some affinity to the Pharisees of old, 
who reproached even the Saviour of the world with 
being; " a Glutton and a Wine-bibber." 



1818.] 30^ 



CHAPTER XII. 

Tour of Switzerland — Bern — Swiss Constitution — Lake of 
Thun — Lauterbrunn — Grindelwald — Brienz — Giesbach — ■ 
Lucerne — Schwytz — Valley of Goldau — Falls of the Rhine 
— Zurich — Zug — Eigi — Return to Lausanne. 

August 15th. The tour of Switzerland might well 
furnish occupation for a whole summer ; but, if 
the object of the traveller be confined to the pic- 
turesque, a fortnight will perhaps suffice to survey 
the finest features of this interesting country, and 
skim the cream of the landscape. With this limited 
object in view, I left Lausanne, with my friend D. 
in a one-horse Char, which resembles an English 
gig, only that the body is placed, on account of the 
narrowness of the roads, sideways between the wheels. 
For this we agreed to pay 13^ francs per day ; this 
was to include the keep of the driver and his horse 
on the road, and indeed all the current expenses of 
the equipage, except the honne-main to the driver ; 
which should always be contingent, and made to 
depend upon his good-conduct. 

There is nothing between Lausanne and Payerne, 
our first day's journey, to excite observation. 

16th. This day's drive brought us to Bern, the 
environs of which have an air of magnificence, that 
announces the approach to a capital. The situation 
of Bern is very striking. It is built upon a bold 

x2 



30S BERN. [AUG. 

eminence, at the foot of which runs the Aar — clear 
and rapid — and in the distance is a bold range of 
the Alps, covered with eternal snows. The town is 
well-built, of handsome stone, but the arcades on 
each side of the street, with their projecting but- 
tresses, give it a heavy and gloomy appearance. 
The leading feature of the place is cleanliness ; 
nothing can be neater than the streets, which are 
freshened by streams of water, that flow down the 
middle of them, in channels prepared for their re- 
ception. 

The Bear is the patron of Bern, and Bruin's 
portrait, as at the mansion of the worthy Laird of 
Bradwardine, meets you at every corner. A couple 
of these animals are entertained at the expense of 
the government in a court in the town-ditch, where 
a fir-tree has been planted, that they may exercise 
themselves in climbing ; and perhaps there is not 
much in Bern that will amuse a stranger more than 
the gambols of this ponderous but active pair. 

The costume of the women — for the men seem to 
be laying aside that distinctive dress which used to 
characterize the different cantons — is any thing but 
graceful. Nothing; can be more absurd than the 
cap of a Bernoise, for it answers no purpose of 
utility, with a broad, starched, black lace frill stand- 
ing up all round it, in which she flits about as with 
the wings of a dragon-fly ; though this is a very bad 
comparison, for the rest of her dress gives her figure 
such a heavy Dutch look, that no wings could sup- 
port it. The character of the Bernoise beauty might 
be given in the description which Henry the Eighth 



SWISS CONSTITUTION. 309 

complainingly made of Anne of Cleves. "With a 
delicacy of complexion that rivals the fair faces of 
England, there is a robustness almost amounting to 
clumsiness in their figures, which is irreconcileable 
with the graces. Madame Roland, in characterizing 
the beauty of the women of Bern, says wittily 
enough ; — " C'est le rosbif des Anglais pour les 
estomacs a toute epreuve." 

The ancient government of Bern was an absolute 
aristocracy ; — but an aristocracy that furnished the 
singular example of exercising its power for the 
advantage of its subjects. 

The French revolution, however, and its conse- 
quences, had deprived Bern of the rights of sove- 
reignty, which it formerly exercised over its depend- 
ent states, and reduced it to the condition of a single 
canton in the new federal compact : in determining 
the principles of which, there was much opposition 
between the aristocratic and democratic parties, 
which might have led to serious consequences, if 
the Swiss had not received a pretty strong hint, that 
if they could not settle their constitution amongst 
themselves, quietly and peaceably, the Allied Powers 
would be obliged to step in and do it for them. 
Such an intimation from without had a wonderful 
effect in moderating the violence of party animosity 
within ; and in 1814 the new constitution was con- 
cluded at Zurich. 

The leading principle of this constitution was the 
equalization cf rights, not only amongst the different 
states composing the confederation, but also amongst 
the citizens of each state. The first step towards 



310 SWISS CONSTITUTION. [AUG. 

this was the abolition of the name of subject in 
Switzerland ; and accordingly, the same rights were 
given to the vassal districts, hitherto called subjects, 
as to the cantons to which they belonged. This 
principle was strongly opposed by the canton of Bern, 
which hoped to recover its ancient dominion over 
the Pays de Vand and Argovie ; bnt it was fully 
established by the eighth article of the constitution ; 
— which also provides that the Diet, in whom the 
government of the confederacy is vested, shall con- 
sist of nineteen deputies, one from each canton, who 
shall vote according to their instructions, each can- 
ton having a voice by its deputy. 

By the seventh article, the equalization of rights 
amongst individuals was established by the abolition 
of all exclusive privileges belonging to any particular 
class ; — and thus the triumph of liberty and equality, 
in the only intelligible meaning of those words, was 
complete. 

Since 1814, Geneva, Neufchatel, and the Valais, 
have been added to the confederacy ; and liberty is 
thus again re-established in her stronghold ; and 
here at least, amidst storms and whirlwinds, and 
poverty and precipices, she may hope to maintain her 
sanctuary. 

17th. The road from Bern to Thun passes 
through a beautiful country, which exhibits com- 
fortable symptoms of the general distribution of 
property. There are no splendid chateaus ; but the 
cottages are neat and elegant, and have all the ap- 
pearance of plenty. Every village has its public 
walk ; and wherever there is a fine view or a shady 



ISIS.] LAKE OF THUX. Oil 

tree, you will find a public walk, and a public 
bench ; where you may rest and enjoy yourself, 
without being afraid of an action of trespass. In 
short, you see every where a striking attention to the 
wants and comforts of the many. At Bern and 
Zurich, you may find equipages, and even liveries ; 
— but these last are held in general abomination 
throughout this land of equality, as base badges of 
servitude. Bern and Zurich, however, are large 
and wealthy towns, and it seems to be the natural 
effect of wealth and luxury to destroy the true 
republican spirit. 

At Thun we sent our carriage to the right-about 
to give us the meeting at Zug, while we made 
a boating and riding detour through the lakes and 
valleys that lie between Thun and that place ; and 
hiring a boat for eleven francs, we embarked for 
Neuhaus. 

The home scenery of the lake of Thun is pic- 
turesque and pleasing, and the range of the Ober- 
land Alps, in the distance, furnishes a grander 
background to the picture than perhaps can be seen 
from any other lake in Switzerland. At Neuhaus 
you find people with the waggons of the country on 
the look-out for passengers to Interlaken. Inter- 
laken is a charming village, situated in a retired and 
romantic spot, combining all that painters love to 
delineate, and poets to describe. The view from the 
hill behind the village, commanding the lakes of 
Thun and Brienz, is superb. 

18th. Morning's drive to Lauterbrunn. No- 
thing can well be imagined more o-rand and sublime 



312 FALL OF THE STAUBACH. [AUG. 

than the scenery of the valley of Lauterbrunn. 
Mountains rise on each side of you ten thousand feet 
high, and a torrent roars at the feet of them, tear- 
ing its course afterwards through the valley with a 
brawling noise, that alone disturbs the solemn 
silence of this profound retreat. Occasionally you 
encounter the summer cabin of a cow-herd, perched 
like an eagle's nest among the rocks ; — which seem 
inaccessible to any animal without wings, except 
the chamois. 

At last, the valley widens a little, and you arrive 
at the village of Lauterbrunn. Here you see the 
cascade of the Staubach, which comes down at one 
fall from a perpendicular rock 800 feet high, — 
nearly twice the height of St. Paul's. This cascade 
would be the grandest in the world, if the body of 
water were greater ; but it is composed of so small 
a rivulet, that it is dispersed into thin spray before 
it reaches the ground. Instead, therefore, of the 
tremendous thunder of a raging cataract, the Stau- 
bach " droppeth like the gentle rain from heaven," 
and presents a picture of enchanting softness and 
beauty, which I should be loth to exchange for any 
more sublime and terrible display of the power of 
nature. Madame Roland, in comparing the fall of 
the Staubach with the fall of the Rhine, has ex- 
pressed in a beautiful illustration the different im- 
pression which nature produces upon the imagination, 
as we contemplate her in her grand and fearful 
aspects, or in those soft and sunny spots, which, like 
an oasis in the desert, derive an additional beauty 
from the horrors that surround them, as in the se- 






1818.] FALL OF THE STAUBACH. 313 

questered seclusion of Lauterbrunn. " II semble," 
says she, " qu'une divinite imposante et paisible, 
ouvre une cataracte du ciel, et en fasse couler le 
Staubach devant soi pour s'annoncer aux mortels : 
— on dirait, de la chute du Rhin, que le maitre des 
enfers, voulant effrayer la terre, la souleve avec le 
fleuve pour manifester son courroux." 

While we sat at the foot of the rock within reach 
of this refreshing shower-bath, admiring the rain- 
bows produced by the morning sun in the falling 
spray, we were surprised by the sound of music, 
which seemed to be a duet of two hautboys ; and the 
echoes of the surrounding rocks produced the most 
pleasing effect. But here again the evil genius of 
reality appeared to dispel the illusion ; — for the en- 
chantment was at once dissolved, on discovering the 
cause of this music in the persons of two dirty old 
women. 

Their singing was from the throat, and the sounds 
resembled closely the tones of a flute. It is in the 
same manner that the famous Kureiholen, or Ranz 
des Vaches, the national air of the Swiss, is sung; 
which does not consist of articulated sounds, nor is it 
accompanied by words; but is a simple melody 
formed by the same kind of guttural intonations. 

After lingering many hours in this romantic so- 
litude, we retraced our steps for some way, and then 
turned to the right into the valley of Grindelwald. 
The wooden cabins of the peasantry are in appear- 
ance just what Goldsmith describes, 

" Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms." 



314 GRINDELWALD. [AUG. 

In Grindelwald there is less of sublimity than in 
the valley of Lauterbrunn ; though the absence of 
wood, of which there is abundance in Lauterbrunn, 
gives a more wild and savage character to the 
scenery. 

19th. We had arrived at Grindelwald in a Char 
with two horses, with an intention of pursuing our 
course with the horses alone — there being no road 
for a carriage any farther over the Scheidegg to 
Meyringen. But to avoid the unprofitable toil of 
climbing up one side of a hill merely to descend the 
other, we determined to return to Interlaken, and 
proceed by water to Brienz. 

All that is worth seeing may thus be seen, almost 
without quitting your carriage, or the high road. 

Grindelwald is surrounded by the mountains of 
Eiger, Mettenberg, and Wetterhorn ; but neither of 
these will compare with the Jungfrau, and Picvierge 
— so called from its inaccessible height — which are 
seen from Lauterbrunn. It is between the Metten- 
berg and Wetterhorn that the glaciers descend. 
These stupendous masses of ice, while they com- 
mand our astonishment, afford additional proofs of 
the wisdom and goodness of the Author of Nature. 
They have been well described " as performing the 
most important offices of utility, and while they 
serve as magazines which nature keeps in reserve to 
replenish the rivers in Switzerland, the partial thaw 
which takes place in summer maintains the fresh- 
ness and moisture necessary to promote the vege- 
tation of those mountain-pastures, which in this 
country constitute the chief wealth of the inha- 



1818.] INTERLAKEN. 315 

bitants. As the snow disappears, the flocks ascend 
the mountains, following the productions of the 
spring 1 , which rise to life under their feet from day to 
day, until the snows of autumn compel them to re- 
tire again into the valleys." The life of the Senn, 
or cow-keeper, is thus a life of constant migration. 
He suspends bells of different sizes to the necks of 
his cattle, in proportion to the merit of the cows ; 
and it is said that these animals are so susceptible 
of feelings similar to our own, that if the leading 
cow fall into disgrace and be deprived of her ho- 
nours, she exhibits all the mortification of wounded 
pride, and of angry jealousy at the promotion of a 
rival ; — and the question of precedence excites as 
much bitterness in the pastures of the Alps, as it can 
do in the drawing-room of the Thuilleries or St. 
James's. 

The greatest affection is described as subsisting 
between the Senn and his flock, which he is said to 
regard as a part of his family ; and the bells of his 
cows are made to harmonize with the Ranz des 
Vaches, which is his constant strain. It is from the 
same icy mountains that Switzerland derives its 
mineral waters, its hot springs, its crystal mines, and 
its cold baths, which have been found so efficacious 
in the cure of various diseases. 

On our return to Interlaken, we had a dispute 
with the voiturier of whom we hired our horses. 
We had bargained for a journey of three days, in- 
tending to go to Meyringen ; but as we abandoned 
this plan, and brought him his horses back the 
second day, we thought ourselves entitled to some 



316 LAKE OF BRIENZ. [AUG. 

abatement. He argued that it was our own fault 
that we had not proceeded to the end of our journey 
— and stuck to his bond. As it was a rainy day, 
and we could not continue our route to Brienz im- 
mediately, we resolved to try the temper of Swiss 
law, and adjourned with the voiturier to the Bailli of 
the village. He ruled the case between us with 
ability and impartiality, and I was delighted at the 
quickness with which he seized the real gist of the 
question. The cause was soon over, and — what, 
seldom, I believe, happens — both parties retired 
perfectly satisfied with his arbitration. Having first 
brought us to an agreement as to the terms of our 
bargain, he decided that we were bound by our 
contract, and must pay the voiturier for three days ; 
but he also kept the voiturier to his part of the con- 
tract, and ordered, that if we chose to stay at Inter- 
laken, we might ride his horses as much as we 
pleased, till those three days were expired. This 
produced a compromise between the litigants * and 
we wished the honest Bailli good morning, and a 
long possession of the judgment-seat of Interlaken. 
We paid six francs for a boat to carry us to 
Brienz. The upper part of the lake of Brienz is 
superior to any thing I have seen in Switzerland. 
It is a perfect picture, and completely satisfies the 
imagination ; — approaching nearer to the gaiety 
which is the character of the Italian lakes, as op- 
posed to those of Switzerland, which have for the 
most part a sombre and gloomy air. The Italian 
lakes are, as Eustace says, " on the right side of the 
Alps" — in a land of wine and oil, instead of milk 



1818.] FALL OF THE GIESBACH. 317 

and water — where you have vineyards instead of 
pine forests, and the villages, instead of being buried 
in holes, and thrust into corners, as in Switzerland, 
are hung out in the boldest and most prominent 
situations. Opposite to the village of Brienz is the 
fall of the Giesbaeh ; which has been less celebrated, 
though it is, I think, beyond all comparison the 
most magnificent cascade in Switzerland, and second 
only to Terni. And even when compared with 
Terni, its inferiority is confined to the volume of 
water : for perhaps there is more variety in the falls 
of the Giesbaeh, which comes foaming down with 
furious impetuosity, through magnificent forest 
scenery ; the effect of which is, to break the usual 
uniformity of a cascade view. The view from the 
Alpine bridge, which has been constructed half way 
up the steep, commanding at once the look up and 
the look down, is perhaps unrivalled. It is in a spot 
like this that we feel the impossibility of conveying 
by words any idea of the sublime imagery of nature. 

At Brienz, a party of female choristers offered 
their services to enliven our evening, by singing their 
national airs. Many of these were delightfully simple 
and plaintive, and they " warbled their wood-notes 
wild " so sweetly, that perhaps science and instruc- 
tion could have added nothing to improve the 
harmony. 

20th. We hired a couple of horses to cross the 
Brunig to Sarnen, the road being impassable for a 
carriage ; and for this day's journey we paid thirty- 
six francs : for in Switzerland they always charge 
you for their horses' journey back, as well as for the 



31 S CANTONAL GOVERNMENTS. [AUG. 

journey you perform. Sarnen is the capital of the 
little canton of Unterwalden. If, as it has been 
objected, there is any natural connexion between 
the Roman Catholic religion and the doctrine of 
passive obedience, it would seem that the character 
of this religion is changed by the climate of Switz- 
erland ; — and here it loses even its intolerance. For 
the canton of Unterwalden was one of the first to 
assert and maintain the rights of liberty ; yet it was, 
and is, firmly attached to the church of Rome : 
though this has not prevented it from extending the 
hand of good fellowship to the Protestant inhabit- 
ants of Upperwalden ; and these two cantons have 
long been incorporated together. They sit in the 
same council, administer the same laws, and inter- 
marry with one another, without at all disturbing 
their political or domestic harmony. 

It is pleasant, amidst the wild and savage recesses 
of the Alps, to find a moral scene of such a cha- 
racter ' y — where the bitterness of religious differences 
is softened by the kindly feelings of human brother- 
hood; and every sect enjoys a full and complete 
participation in all the privileges of society. 

The costume of the peasantry in this canton is 
grotesque, but not unpleasing. The women walk 
about in flat straw hats, which bear the same propor- 
tion to their figure that the head of a large mush- 
room does to its stalk. 

21st. The government of a pure democracy may 
still be contemplated amongst some of the little 
cantons of Switzerland ; where the people meet en 
masse in the plain, to legislate and choose their 



1818.] CANTONAL GOVERNMENTS. 319 

magistrates. Here too may be seen the singular 
spectacle of a government without taxes, the govern- 
ment lands paying all the expenses of the state ; 
and this will not appear extraordinary, where we 
find that the salary of the Landmann, or chief officer 
of the state, is limited to eight pounds per annum. 
In this miniature shape, such a government may be 
conducted with moderation and justice ; but the 
history of democracies has too fatally proved, that 
it is perhaps of all forms of government the worst, 
when tried upon a large scale. Cruelty and injustice 
may disgrace the best-formed constitutions ; but it 
would seem that they must be the characteristics of 
democracies. The history of Athens, the seat of 
arts and sciences, the country of historians, poets, 
and ymilosophers, teaches us, in the banishment of 
Aristides, the condemnation of Socrates, and the 
death of Phocion, that the intellectual and moral 
character of a people affords no security against 
their abuse of power; while the annals of the French 
Revolution will record in its true colours the savage 
spirit of a democracy acting under the blind impulse 
of ignorance and vice. This detestable spirit is 
completely explained in the declaration of a favourite 
demagogue of that day — " that true republicans 
ought not to bear even the aristocracy of virtue" — 
a sentiment which seems to be lineally descended 
from the Athenian, who employed Aristides to in- 
scribe his own name on the shell that was to send 
him into exile. 

It is plain that these observations are not meant 
to apply to such mixed governments as have been 



320 LAKE OF LUCERNE GERSAU. [AUG. 

founded on the representative system — the effect of 
which is, to counteract the inherent vices of demo- 
cracy ; though it may well be doubted whether this 
beneficial effect would not be completely neutralized, 
if the right of suffrage were made universal, with a 
new election every year. 

After a long conversation on Swiss politics with 
our worthy host at Sarnen — who held an important 
office in the magistracy of the canton, and who 
delighted us at once by his good-humour, and the 
strong resemblance he bore to the Welsh Captain 
Fluellen, of gallant memory — we proceeded in a 
char to Alpnach, where we hired a boat to take us to 
Lucerne, and afterwards to Gersau, for fifteen francs. 
There was a good deal of wind, and the boatman 
hoisted a sail ; but this is a dangerous practice ; for 
the boats are flat-bottomed, and the men very bad 
sailors, so that you run the risk of being upset by 
those puffs of wind to which you are constantly ex- 
posed on the lakes of Switzerland, from the nature 
of the surrounding mountains and valleys. There 
is little in Lucerne to detain you, except the model 
of the four cantons by General Pfiffer, which should 
not be omitted. 

The scenery of the lake in the neighbourhood of 
Lucerne is rather tame, but as you advance towards 
Gersau it assumes a loftier character, and the view 
towards- Altorf is full of rugged magnificence. 

The little republic of Gersau, consisting of a terri- 
tory of two leagues in length and one in breadth, 
was incorporated into the canton of Schwytz in 
1798. There is an anecdote told by a French 



1818.] SCHWYTZ. 321 

traveller to show how completely, in so small a 
community, the conduct of every individual is under 
the eye of the public; — upon entering the inn at 
this place, he found an advertisement posted up, 
prohibiting all persons from playing at any kind of 
game, or drinking, with two citizens of the republic 
specified by name ; and the reason assigned for this 
prohibition was, that one of them was addicted to 
drunkenness, and the other to choler. 

22nd. We proceeded up the lake, and disem- 
barked at Brunen ; from whence it is a short drive 
to Schwytz — the cradle of Switzerland. The inha- 
bitants of this canton displayed the same enthusiastic 
courage at the battle of Montgarten, against the 
French, in 1799, which their ancestors had done on 
the same spot, against the Austrians, in 1315, in 
the memorable battle which established their liberty. 
The interval between these battles — nearly 500 years 
— was an interval of peace and prosperity ; but the 
havoc and devastation committed by the contending 
armies of Russians, Austrians, and French, in 1799, 
reduced the poor Schwytzers to beggary and ruin. 
The town of Schwytz is situated in a charming green 
valley, backed by the sharp and rugged heights of 
the Mythen. The Cerf at Schwytz is a perfect inn ; 
so delightfully comfortable, that I should have been 
well contented to remain there for some time, if the 
time had permitted it. It is necessary to penetrate 
into the core of Switzerland to recognise the traces 
of that honest simplicity of character, which has 
been considered as peculiar to the Swiss people. In 
those places which are situated on the great high 

Y 



322 ECROULEMENT OF THE ROSSBERG. [AUG. 

roads, the influx of travellers has produced the usual 
work of demoralization ; and the only competition 
seems to be who shall cheat the traveller most. The 
female cap of this canton seems to be fashioned 
with still less attention to utility than that of Bern ; 
and is, in fact, nothing but a stiff frill of muslin, 
disposed uprightly on the top of the head, like the 
comb of a cock. 

In our route from Schwytz to Art, we passed over 
the valley of Goldau, the fatal scene of the terrible 
ecroulement of the Rossberg ; a mountain which in 
the year 1806 slipped from its foundations, literally 
fulfilling the emphatic description of the Psalmist 
— " The mountains skipped like rams." — This over- 
whelming catastrophe swallowed up in a moment 
five of the most industrious villages in Switzerland, 
with some hundreds of their inhabitants, and a 
party of unfortunate travellers. The moving masses 
which came thundering down are described as being 
a league in length, 1000 feet in breadth, and 200 
feet high ; which in a few minutes converted this 
once cheerful and populous valley into a shapeless 
chaos of rocks and desolation. 

The weather was so bad when we arrived at Art, 
that we resolved to postpone our intended ascent of 
the Rigi till our return, and proceed at once to 
S chaff hausen, the ultimate object of our tour. 

After a boisterous voyage along the lake from 
Art, we arrived at Zug, where we found our car- 
riage ; and as the rain prevented us from seeing 
any thing of that place, we pushed on to Thalwyl 
to sleep. 



1818.] FALLS OF THE RHINE. 323 

23rd. We proceeded as rapidly as possible, with- 
out making any halt at Zurich, in order to see the 
falls of the Rhine before sun-set. It had continued 
to rain during the whole day, but a short time be- 
fore our Char stopped at the foot-path which leads 
to the falls, the weather suddenly cleared, and we 
were fortunate enough to contemplate this splendid 
prospect lighted up by the rays of the setting sun. 
As the morning is the most favourable season for 
seeing the Staubach, so, from the difference of the 
aspect, the evening is the best period for looking at 
the falls of the Rhine. The impression of the first 
coup d'oeil perhaps disappoints expectation, and it 
seems to require a longer survey to take in the whole 
magnificence of the scene. The best point of view 
is, I think, from the room of an artist immediately 
opposite to it ; in which he has constructed a camera 
obscura which transfers the whole scene with all its 
lights, and colours, and motion, upon the table of 
his apartment. One of the defects, which are in- 
cident to representations of cascades, is thus sup- 
plied, and the effect of this moving picture is very 
pleasing ; the want of sound, however, is a defect 
which seems irremediable, for though in this in- 
stance you have the roaring of the real water-fall in 
your ears, you cannot, by any cheating of the senses, 
connect it with the mimic imagery of the picture. 

Twilight came upon us while we were yet gazing 
with undiminished admiration at the awful majesty 
of the scene before us. I find that we have delayed 
our tour too long. The beginning of July is per- 
haps the best period for an excursion in Switzer- 

y 2 



324 SWISS MANUFACTURES. [AUG. 

land ; for it is very important to have the evening 
as long as possible. At present it is night at eight 
o'clock, and the thermometer, which was a fortnight 
ago at 85 in the shade, was this evening as low 
as 52. 

We found shelter for the night at a wretched inn 
at lestetten. 

24th. There is nothing interesting in the coun- 
try between Schaffhausen and Zurich, and it is upon 
a road like this, that one is tempted to complain of 
the want of post-horses in Switzerland. The Diet 
seem to consider that the establishment of posting 
would be too great an encouragement of luxury ; 
and accordingly a traveller is doomed to the snail's 
pace of a voiturier's team whether he will or no. 

It is impossible not to wish well to any regulations 
that have a tendency to promote and maintain un- 
corrupted the simple manners of the peasantry ; and 
it is, I fear, a serious deduction from the advantages 
of good roads and mail coaches, that, while they 
promote the diffusion of knowledge, they circulate 
the poison of immorality, and contaminate the coun- 
try with the vices and licentiousness of the capital. 
Travellers have certainly done no good to Switzer- 
land; but perhaps she has more to fear from the 
mistaken policy of the Diet in encouraging the 
growth of manufactures. 

To say nothing of the absurdity of manufacturing 
at home cottons and muslins, which she might pur- 
chase cheaper and better from England ; the profits 
of these establishments will be a poor compensation 
for the evil effects which they must produce upon 



ISIS.] SWISS MANUFACTURES. 325 

the morals of the people. The only hope of dura- 
tion that a democratieal government can entertain 
must be founded upon the moral qualities of the 
great body of its population. 

It would surely be happier for Switzerland, that 
her population was confined to the honest and hardy 
followers of pasturage and agriculture, than that she 
should, by the establishment of manufactures, breed 
up an excessive population in particular places, de- 
pending for support and subsistence upon the fluc- 
tuating prices of commerce, and infected with the 
vicious propensities which seem to be the necessary 
consequence of any system, that confines large 
numbers of human beings together in sedentary 
employments. 

The Swiss, and particularly the inhabitants of the 
neighbouring canton of Appenzell, have always been 
celebrated for their skill in mechanics. A remarkable 
instance of their mechanical genius was furnished by 
Ulrich Grubenman. This man, who was a common 
carpenter, was the inventor of that sort of wooden 
bridge, which is in German called hcengwerk. 

In consequence of the repeated washing away of 
the bridges at Schaff hausen, a committee was ap- 
pointed to consider of a plan for a new structure. 
Grubenman, in order to avoid the fore 3 of the 
stream, proposed to erect a bridge which should con- 
sist of a single arch. The idea of throwing an arch 
across a width of 300 feet, was treated with ridicule ; 
and the plan was about to be dismissed as the pro- 
ject of a visionary ; when Grubenman, as the story 
runs, answered the objections by jumping with his 



326 ZURICH ZUG. [AUG. 

whole weight upon the miniature model of his in- 
tended work, which bore him up triumphantly, and 
his plan was in the end adopted. 

Zurich is celebrated for the literary characters it 
has produced, and has been called the Athens of 
Switzerland. Gessner and Lavater are amongst the 
names of which they are most proud. 

The last fell by the bayonet of a French ruffian, 
when Zurich was taken by storm, during those ter- 
rible times which made the peaceful retirement of 
Switzerland the theatre of war and carnage ; and 
presented the awful spectacle of contending armies 
of French and Russians fighting hand to hand upon 
the Devil's Bridge. 

The public library is large and curious ; but a 
traveller has seldom time to do more than look at 
the outsides of books. They show you an original 
manuscript of Quintilian, and a collection of original 
letters in Latin, from our Lady Jane Gray to Bul- 
linguer. In the evening we proceeded to Zug, along 
the banks of the lake of Zurich, which are gay and 
cheerful, though entirely without any of the higher 
characteristics of the sublime and the beautiful. 

25th. The little canton of Zug, like Schwytz 
and many others, proves, that there is no necessary 
hostility between the Catholic Religion, and liberal 
principles of government. We embarked for Art 
at day-break, in order to ascend the Rigi. The 
lake of Zug is famous for the variety and abundance 
of its fish. The season of carp fishing is drawing 
to a close. I am told they are sometimes caught of 
the prodigious weight of ninety pounds : and fre- 



1818.] rigi. 327 

quently of twenty pounds' weight. But the fish in 
greatest estimation is the rcetele^ a sort of salmon- 
trout, which is found under different names in most 
of the lakes of Switzerland. The day had promised 
a fine sun-set, hut, as is often the case, these expec- 
tations were disappointed. There are four different 
routes by which you may ascend the Rigi ; hut that 
from Art is perhaps, on the whole, the best ; not 
only as regards the road itself, but because the views 
by the way are confined, and the grand panorama 
is reserved till you arrive at the summit. 

It took four hours and a half good walking to 
reach the top. The evening was extremely cold, the 
wind at north-west, and Fahrenheit's thermometer 
stood at 40. 

26th. We rose soon after four o'clock in order to 
see the sun rise, which he did in the fullest splen- 
dour ; gilding the white summits of the Swiss Alps, 
of which you command a view from the Sentis in 
Appenzell, to the Gemmi in the canton of the 
Yalais. Ebel says, that fourteen lakes are visible, 
but I could only make out eleven. It was a magni- 
ficent spectacle. A sun-rise upon the Rigi, — the 
Regina Montium* — forms an epoch in one's life, 
which can never be forgotten. No man can help 
feeling on such an occasion some of those sensations, 
which Rousseau so eloquently describes as the effect of 
the air of high mountains, though it perhaps may be 
doubted whether the cause be not altogether moral, 
rather than physical. " Ce fut la, — on the top of 
the Rigi for instance, — ce fut la, que je demelai 
sensiblement, dans la ptirete de Fair ou je me 



328 RIGI. [AUG. 

trouvais, la veritable cause du changement demon 
humeur et du retour de cette paix interieure, que 
j'avais perdue depuis si long terns. En effet, e'est 
une impression generate, qu'eprouvent tous les 
hommes, — quoiqu'ils ne l'observent pas tous, — que 
sur les hautes montagnes, ou l'air est pur et subtil, 
on se sent plus de facilite dans la respiration, plus 
de legerete dans le corps, plus de screnite dans 
Tesprit ; les plaisirs y sont moins ardens, les passions 
plus modere'es. Les meditations y prennent je ne 
sais quel caractere grand et sublime, proportionne 
aux objets qui nous frappent, — -je ne sais quelle 
volupte tranquille- qui n'a rien d'acre et de sensuel. 
II semble qu'en s'elevant au-dessus du sejour des 
hommes, on y laisse tous les sentimens bas et ter- 
restres, et qu'a mesure qu'on approche des regions 
e'therees, Fame contracte quelque chose de leur in- 
alterable purete. On y est grave sans melancolie, 
paisible sans indolence, content d'etre et de penser ; 
tous les desirs trop vifs s'emoussent, ils perdent 
cette pointe aigue qui les rend douloureux ; ils ne 
laissent au fond du cceur qu'une emotion legere et 
douce ; et c'est ainsi qu'un heureux climat fait servir 
a la felicite de 1'homme les passions qui font d'ail- 
leurs son tourment." 

Such is the description of Rousseau, of which 
every man has, more or less, felt the truth ; and it 
is, no doubt, to enjoy in Platonic perfection such se- 
raphic raptures, that a lady of Switzerland has fixed 
her residence on the summit of the Rigi during the 
summer; where she receives and entertains such 
pilgrim visiters as may be thought worthy to parti- 
cipate in them. 



1818.] MANAGEMENT OF CATTLE. 329 

In descending, we took the road to Wegghis, which 
is the shortest and the steepest. Here we embarked 
to cross the lake of Lucerne, where we rejoined our 
carriage. 

27th and 28th. The road from Lucerne to Bern, 
by way of Zofingen, passes through the most fertile 
and best cultivated part of Switzerland. The views 
are of a softer and richer character, and the land- 
scape is constantly enlivened by herds of grazing 
cattle ; a feature which is often wanting, especially 
in the Pays de Vaud ; where the favourite system is 
to confine the cattle to the house. In the neigh- 
bourhood of Lausanne, there is a large grazing farm, 
where no less than a hundred cows are thus kept in 
the confinement of the stall during the whole year. 
The advantages of this mode, in a farming point of 
view, seem to be considerable. The grass which 
supplies them with food during the summer, instead 
of being wastefully trodden under foot, and daintily 
picked, is regularly and fairly cut, — fat and lean to- 
gether, — and is thus made to go much further ; 
while the vast quantity of manure which is accumu- 
lated from so large a stock, is sufficient to support 
the pastures under the constant exhaustion of the 
scythe *. 

The animals on the other hand give more milk 
than if they were at liberty ; and are in much better 

* The Swiss are very attentive to the dressing of their pas- 
tures, and to the preservation of the means of doing so, parti- 
cularly the urinary part of manure, by far the richest and most 
valuable, of which they collect and treasure up every drop 
with scrupulous care. 



330 RETUI1N TO LAUSANNE. [AUG. 

condition, in the grazier's sense of the word ; — that 
is, they are always ready for the butcher. The only 
objections to this mode arise out of considerations 
for the happiness of the animals themselves, to whom 
we are disposed to attribute human feelings and sen- 
timents, and to imagine that they derive the same 
pleasure from browsing freely in the sunshine of the 
meadow, or reposing in the protecting shade of the 
woodland surrounded by the beauties of nature, 
which we should ourselves feel if similarly situated. 
But it may, I think, be fairly concluded that 
animals, though they may seem to participate with 
man to a certain extent in the faculty of reason, are 
utterly insensible to all the pleasures of taste and 
imagination. The beautiful has no charms for the 
brute creation ; for even in the passion of sexual de- 
sire, where, if any where, it might be supposed to 
have some influence, we do not perceive that youth, 
beauty, and cleanliness, make a more forcible appeal 
to their feelings, than age, dirt, and deformity. And 
it may be doubted whether the tranquillity and pro- 
tection from flies during the summer afforded by the 
stall, be not sources of greater gratification to these 
animals, with whom 

" To live well means nothing but to eat," 

than any which they could find in the enjoyment of 
liberty, or the contemplation of the landscape. 

29th. After again exploring the beauties of Bern, 
and its promenades, we retraced our steps to Payerne. 

30th. Returned to Lausanne ; — the more one 
sees of Switzerland, the more one is pleased with the 






1818.] LAUSANNE SWISS HONESTY. 331 

country, and the less one is pleased with the inha- 
bitants. 

Point d 7 argent point de Suisse is a maxim of 
which every day's experience demonstrates the truth. 
Our bill last night was just twice as much as it was 
a fortnight ago at the same place ; and our host was 
somewhat confused, when we produced his former 
account, in opposition to his charge. Swiss honesty 
is a phrase that is much used, and it may have some 
application — out of Switzerland; but it is an article 
that seems to be cultivated solely for exportation, 
and none is retained for home consumption. 

September 6th. Packing up. Farewell visits. 
Last drive round the environs of Lausanne, which 
are studded with pretty villas ; amongst which La 
Chabliere is conspicuously beautiful, — the residence 
of Mr. Canning, the British minister, whose courteous 
and hospitable attentions will not be forgotten by 
any of his countrymen who have resided at Lausanne. 



332 [sept. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Departure from Lausanne — Geneva — Ferney — Chamouni — ► 
Mont Blanc — Mer ile Glace — Aix — Chamberry — Lyons — 
Journey to Montpeliier — Scenery of the Rhone — Hannibal's 
Passage — Revolutionary Horrors — Nismes. 

September Sth. Left Lausanne in a voiturier's 
carriage, consuming eight hours in the journey to 
Geneva. There is a metropolitan appearance about 
Geneva ; and it would seem that the people had ac- 
quired a taste for military foppery during their long 
connexion with France. 

The town is fortified ; — and there is as much 
pomp and circumstance in the examination of your 
passport at the gate as if you were entering the ca- 
pital of a military despot. In the lower and trading 
part of the town, the houses, which are very high, 
have arcades of wood supported by pillars carried up 
to the roofs, something after the manner of Chester. 
The upper part of the city, which is built on a gentle 
ascent, is clean and handsome ; the houses are of 
fine stone ; and the views from the public walks to- 
wards the lake and neighbouring mountains are 
magnificent. The Rhone issues out of the lake in 
two rapid streams of dark and transparent blue, which 
unite soon afterwards, before they join the muddy 
Arve. It is surprising how the notion could ever 
have prevailed, that the Rhone passed through the 
lake without mixing with its waters ; but there is 



1813.] FERNET. 333 

this very extraordinary fact — at its going' out, it re- 
sembles neither the muddy colour of its former stream, 
nor the crystal clearness of the lake through which it 
has passed, but is of as deep an indigo as the stream 
that runs from a dyer's furnace. 

9th. Drove to Les Delices ; — the residence of 
Voltaire before he fixed himself at Ferney ; but there 
was nothing to be seen. Afterwards to Ferney. 
His bed-room and salon remain precisely in the state 
in which they were when he occupied them. 

Under the canopy of his bed is a portrait of Le 
Kain ; on one side of the hangings, a portrait of the 
King of Prussia — and on the other, one of Voltaire 
himself. On another side of the room is the Mar- 
quise de Chatelet, his mistress. On the third wall 
are the Empress of Russia ; Clement XIV., better 
known by the name of Ganganelli ; Voltaire's Semp- 
stress ; and his Little Savoyard Boy. On the re- 
maining side are a collection of prints. The family 
of Calas — De Lille — Diderot — Sir Isaac Newton — 
Franklin — Racine — Milton — Corneille — Antoine 
Thomas — Leibnitz — De Mairan — Helvetius — 
Washington — D'Alembert — Marmontel. All these 
remain as he had placed them. Here, too, is a 
model of the monument which he prepared for the 
reception of his own heart, with this inscription : 

Mes manes sont consoles 

Puisque mon coeur 

Est au milieu de vous. 

All the prints are very poor performances, of small 
size. The Sempstress and Savoyard Boy are beau- 
tiful subjects, and very prettily done in crayons. I 



334 GENEVA VOLTAIRE. [SEPT. 

could not hear that there was any tale of scandal re- 
lating to either. The portrait of Frederick is a vile 
daub in oil colours, which an ale-house in England 
would scarcely accept as a sign. That of the Mar- 
quise de Chatelet is not much better, though her 
countenance apparently deserved an abler artist. 
Catharine of Russia's portrait is executed in em- 
broidery. Le Kain's is a wretched performance in 
crayons ; and, if it was like him, there never was an 
actor who had to contend against greater disadvan- 
tages of person. Voltaire's portrait is by far the 
best of the collection; the face is full of vivacity and 
spirit. It must have been done when he was a very 
young man ; and, placed here, it looks as if he had 
been the god of his own idolatry. 

The portrait of Clement XTV. should have been 
inscribed with his memorable repartee to Voltaire, 
which has still higher merit than its wit to recom- 
mend it. 

The Baron of Gleichen, in his way to Italy, 
stopped at Ferney, and inquired of Voltaire what he 
should say from him to the Pope? — " His Holiness" 
replied Voltaire, "favours me with presents of medals, 
and of indulgences, and even sends me his blessing : 
but I would rather that Ganganelli would send me 
the ears of the Grand Inquisitor." — The Baron de- 
livered the message : — " Tell him," replied Clement, 
Ci that, as long as Ganganelli is Pope, the Grand 
Inquisitor shall have neither ears nor eyes." 

The whole town of Ferney was of Voltaire's crea- 
tion. His estate consisted of about 900 acres. I 
talked with an old pair who spoke of him with the 



1818.] GENEVA VOLTAIRE. 335 

greatest affection, and told me tales of his various 
charities ; — of his portioning the poor, to enable them 
to marry — and of the kind interest which he took in 
all their concerns. He was very fond of rifle shoot- 
ing, and encouraged popinjay contests amongst 
them, in which he himself took a part. An old do- 
mestic produced two relics of his master ; — the cap 
which he used to wear in his study, made of white 
silk embroidered with tinsel — and a curious book, 
in which Voltaire had made a collection of the seals 
of all his correspondents. The seals were pasted in, 
and underneath each he had written the address of 
the writer. It seems that it was his practice, when he 
received a letter, to examine and verify the seal by 
referring to his book ; and, if it came from a quarter 
he did not like, he refolded it in an enveloppe, and 
returned it unopened to the writer. 

He built the church of Ferney close to his own 
gate, as if he had a mind to illustrate the old saying 
— the nearer the church, the further from G — . 

So much for Voltaire, whose merits as an author 
seem to have been over-rated. Johnson's praise of 
Goldsmith might with some limitation be applied to 
him — nullum fere scribendi genus non tetigit, 
nullum quod tetigit non ornavit ; but though he 
sparkled in almost every style of writing, he did not 
perhaps shine pre-eminently in more than one. He 
had more w r it than genius — and his forte rather lay in 
cooking up the thoughts of others with his own 
sauce piquante, than in producing new sources of 
knowledge. He is perhaps only maximus in mi- 
nimis ; an exquisite writer of a satiric tale; un- 



336 GENEVA VOLTAIRE. [SEPT. 

rivalled in wit, raillery, and sarcasm :■ — and inimitable 
in " exposing knaves and painting fools." Beyond 
this, there is little to say. His epic poetry, his 
tragedies, and his histories are only extraordinary 
in their combination. Separately considered ; — his 
epic poetry would be placed by all but Frenchmen in 
the very lowest class of epic poems, all that Lord 
Chesterfield says to the contrary notwithstanding ; 
— his tragedies are inferior in force and grandeur to 
those of Corneille, and in sensibility and pathos to 
those of Racine. Of his history much is romance ; 
and the Age of Louis XIV., upon which his claims 
as an historian are founded, is rather a collection of 
materials for a history than an historical work. On 
many subjects it is plain he had but a smattering. 
Perhaps a stronger instance could not be given of 
the difference between a mouthful and a belly-full 
of knowledge than would be afforded by a com- 
parison of Voltaire's preface to GSdipe with John- 
son's preface to Shakspeare. 

His physiognomy, which is said to have been a 
combination of the eagle and the monkey, was illus- 
trative of the character of his mind. If the soaring 
wing and piercing eye of the eagle opened to him all 
the regions of knowledge, it was only to collect 
materials for the gratification of that apish dis- 
position, which seems to have delighted in grinning, 
with a malicious spirit of mockery, at the detected 
weaknesses and infirmities of human nature. Though 
a man may often rise the wiser, yet I believe none 
ever rose the better, from the perusal of Voltaire. 
The short but admirable epitaph on him may well 
conclude his character — 



]818.] VALLEY OF CHAMOUNI. 337 

" Ci git l'enfant gate du monde quM gata." 

On our return to Geneva we had as usual a battle 
to fight with the voiturier — a kind of animal, of all 
others the most nefarious — and perhaps the Swiss 
species is the worst. The dispute ended, as most 
disputes do — by the fool submitting to the knave. 
1 paid the rascal his demand, and proceeded to 
Bonneville to sleep ; — and the next day brought us 
to St. Martin. 

11th. Rainy morning; — nothing to be seen. On 
entering the valley of Chamouni it cleared up. 
Stopped to examine the glacier of Bossons, which is 
perhaps the brightest glacier in Switzerland. But 
all glaciers look like frozen snow, rather than frozen 
water ; and in fact they are ail covered more or less 
with a thin coat of snow. Some of the pillars, or 
rather spires, of ice in this glacier, are above a hun- 
dred feet high. 

Arrived at Chamouni before dusk; — but Mont 
Blanc was invisible — enveloped in mist and clouds. 

It is now nearly a century since Pococke explored 
this valley, which was till then as little known as the 
interior of Africa. There are now two well-ap- 
pointed inns ; and during the summer season it has 
become the fashionable resort of all the idle tourists 
of Europe. 

12th. Beautiful day ; — but before the sun ap- 
peared above the horizon, which it did not do till 
nine o'clock, it was bitterly cold. I had now, for 
the first time, a fine clear view of Mont Blanc 

soaring snow-clad through its native sky, 

In the ^ild pomp of mountain majesty — 



338 CHAMOUNI. [sept. 

with the whole range of needles ; some of which 
appear higher to an unpractised eye than Mont 
Blanc itself. But the eye is of all witnesses the 
most inaccurate, and it is some time before it can 
he taught to distinguish which is really the summit 
of Mont Blanc. 

Rode to the cross of the Flegere ; a height on the. 
opposite side of the valley to Mont Blanc. The 
best point of view to look at a mountain is from an 
opposite elevation, and not from the plain. From 
the height of the Flegere we enjoyed the prospect in 
full perfection ; — Below, as Johnson would say, was 
" immeasurable profundity," and above, " inacces- 
sible altitude." The needles now sunk to a level 
with ourselves, while the round head of Mont Blanc 
rose higher than ever. 

After having inscribed our names on the cross of 
the Flegere, we prepared to descend, and in our way 
down stopped to refresh ourselves and our mules on 
the mossy bank of a clear spring, from whence the 
prospect on every side was superb ; — " and all was 
rudeness, silence, and solitude." A tranquil and 
happy hour ! — I was reminded of Johnson's hour of 
rest on a " bank such as a writer of romance would 
have delighted to feign" in his tour to the Hebrides. 

A full view of Mont Blanc at midnight, by the 
light of a glorious moon. 

13th. Ascended Montanvert, to go to the Mer 
cle Glace. It is impossible to describe this scene 
better than in the words of Coxe, who compares it to 
" a raging sea suddenly frozen in the midst of a 
violent storm." The glaciers which terminate the 



1818.] MER DE GLACE. 339 

Mer de Glace debouch fairly into the valley of 
Chamouni in enormous masses, overturning trees, 
protruding forward vast blocks of granite, and 
threatening to advance, notwithstanding the crosses 
which have been set up to check their progress ; 
many of these the Glaciers have actually overturned; 
in spite of the religious processions, which the su- 
perstition of the people leads them to hope will 
interrupt the course of nature. Vast pyramids of 
ice of all forms and sizes are constantly giving way, 
as they are pushed forward by those behind, or 
rather by the insensible movement of the whole 
mass, and they fall down with the noise of a peal of 
thunder. 

The Mer de Glace, or Valley of Ice, is one of 
those things which, like Vesuvius, does not dis- 
appoint expectation. As that represents " the fiery 
floods" of the place of punishment, so tins is the 
other extreme — the " thrilling region of thick ribbed 
ice." Nothing can be more awfully sublime ; and 
there is just enough of danger in the chasms that 
yawn under your feet, and the occasional cracking 
of the surface, to impress the mind in a manner 
that disposes it to feel in its full force all the 
grandeur of the scene. Amongst other effusions in 
the Album at Montanvert, the Empress Josephine 
had written a quatrain, with her own hand; but 
some unprincipled collector of autographs has torn 
out the leaf in which it had been inscribed. The 
registrar, however, retained the verses in his me- 
mory, and has re-written them in the book : 

z 2 



340 ALBUM AT CHAMOUNI. [SEPT. 

K Ah je sens qu'au milieu de ces grands phenomenes, 
De ces tableaux touchans. de ces terribles scenes, 
Tout eleve l'esprit, tout occupe les yeux ; 
Le coeur seul, un moment, se repose en ces lieux." 

1810. 
An imperial quatrain is too great a curiosity to be 
within the reach of criticism ; but how shall we 
explain a sentence inscribed by Madame de Stael ! 
" Si les passions n'antantissait — (probably anean- 
tissaient) — la sensibilite du coeur, on verroit les 
hommes s'abstenir des choses impures, et que le 
sentiment reprouve, mais l'ame inclinee vers sa 
perfection ne saurait composer avec ses principes, 
et jetter dans la vie une autre vie, qui conduirait a. 
un avenir sans avenir." 

De Stael Holstein, 17 Aout 1815. 

I own I am not GSdipus enough to understand 
what the Sphinx would be at here ; though I have 
faithfully transcribed the sentence — even to a fault. 
If the author of the Rejected Addresses had visited 
Chamouni, one might almost suspect it was a quiz. 
It is certainly very like the style of the lady in 
question, particularly when — as it often happens to 
her — she does not seem to understand her own 
meaning. This, I suspect, is frequently the case in 
the mystical and metaphysical parts of her writings; 
which continually remind us of our old friend the 
Vicar of Wakefield, with his " anarchon ara kai 
ateleutaion to pan." 

I record one more effusion, taken from the Album 
at Chamouni ; which is more intelligible, and per- 



1818.] MONT BLANC. 341 

haps applies as strongly to the foregoing", as to any 
other piece of galimatias in such collections : 

" J'ai pense," says the writer, " que les grancles 
impressions que Ton recoit ici donneraient de 
grandes pensees; que la purete, la legerete de Pair 
qu'on y respire les feroit rendre avec nettete ; par- 
suite j'ai donne en Juillet 1809 un registre au 
Mbntanvert, pour que les Voyageurs y consignassent 
leurs reflexions : — Je m'en repens. Ce que j'y ai lu 
— ce que je lis ici, me desespere. On a du bon sens 
quand on se determine a voir la Vallee de Chamouni, 
mais je vois qu'on le perd en y arrivant." 

My guide was one of ten who a few weeks ago 
attended a Polish count in an expedition to the 
summit of Mont Blanc. They pitched their tent the 
first night in a sheltered spot about two thirds of the 
way up ; the second day they succeeded in reaching 
the top, and rested again at night in the same spot ; 
and the third day they returned to Chamouni. 

This was a mere excursion of pleasure and curio- 
sity, unconnected with scientific observation, which 
made great part of the object of M. de Saussure's 
expedition in 1787. It was a short time before 
this, that M. Paceard, the apothecary of Chamouni, 
and Jacques Balma the Guide — ever afterwards 
called Balma Montblanc — went up without any 
other companions, and had the glory of being the 
first to explore the maiden snow of these uninhabited 
regions of frost and silence, which had never been 
disturbed by the tread of any living thing. M. de 
Saussure gives one caution to pedestrian travellers, 
which may be found of use. He advises you, before 



342 MONT BLANC. [SEPT. 

you enter upon a dangerous path, to familiarize 
your eye with the precipice beneath ; lest the sight 
of it should break upon the view unexpectedly, and 
occasion a dizziness, that might be fatal. The guides, 
on the contrary, always recommend you, when you 
are passing the brink of a precipice, to turn your 
eyes away from it. This may be the best rule, 
when it can be done ; but sometimes the precipice 
will obtrude itself upon you, whether you will or 
no, and then it is certainly as well to be previously 
prepared for it. 

14th. Returned to Geneva. — As the weather was 
fine, I had an opportunity of seeing all that is to be 
seen between Chamouni and St. Martin. Though 
the scenery is occasionally very grand, yet it cannot 
be compared with Lauterbrunn and Interlaken. 
Mont Blanc improves as one recedes from him. A 
mountain like a hero loses much from juxtaposition. 
I was disappointed in the impression he made upon 
me when I was face to face with him at Chamouni ; 
but at the Torrentnoir, or on the bridge of St. 
Martin, he might — addressing me as the ghost of 
Banquo — say with Macbeth — "Why so — being 
gone — I am myself again !" 

15th. Arrived at Aix — a small town in Savoy. 
The hot springs are much celebrated for their effects 
in removing all chronic pains. The baths are well 
built, and the expense of bathing is very trifling. 
It is a sulphurated water so hot, that the thermo- 
meter stands at 110. The general mode of bathing 
is the douche, as it is called ; — the water is made to 
fall from the height of some feet, and is conducted 



1S18.] ROAD TO LYONS. 343 

by a pipe, so as to play with considerable force upon 
the part affected. After being parboiled in this 
manner for twenty minutes, they wrap you up in a 
blanket, and carry you back to bed. The douche is 
very fatiguing 1 . After a trial for ten days, the only 
effects it produced on me were nausea, headach, and 
general debility ; so I resolved to change the scene. 

26th. Drove to Chamberry ; — passed the day in 
strolling with Rousseau's Confessions in my hand 
to Les Charmettes, the quiet retreat in which he 
lived with his Maman, Madame de Warens. His 
description of her person is one of the most animated 
pictures of grace and beauty that ever was penned ; 
and her gentle and benevolent character is still 
more interesting than her beauty. 

The house is situated in a valley surrounded by 
mountains; but scarcely a vestige remains of the 
garden, which he tells us he cultivated with his 
own hands. 

27th. T once more consigned myself to a voitu- 
rier to be conveyed to Lyons. The road across the 
mountains is romantic. This road is the work of 
Charles Emanuel, second Duke of Savoy, who has 
recorded his achievement in an inscription as — 
" Romanis intentatum ceteris desperatum" — but it 
has been thrown into the shade by the imperial road- 
maker of the Simplon, who has here also cut his 
way in a straight line through the mountain by a 
subterraneous tunnel of many hundred yards long. 

At Pont-de-Beauvoisin our baggage was strictly 
searched. The custom-house is in the habit of in- 
stituting a very rigorous examination on this frontier, 



3-14 LYONS. [sept. 

for the ostensible purpose of preventing the intro- 
duction of Geneva goods, particularly watches and 
jewellery; but it is notorious that cases of watches 
are carried over the mountains by men on foot in 
large quantities; and the rate of insurance is so 
low, that it would lead one to suppose there must be 
a secret understanding between the custom-house 
and the smuggler. 

The first impression of France is favourable, but 
as you approach Lyons, the country becomes more 
bleak and open. 

2Sth. Arrived at Lyons before sun-set. — Lyons 
is the Manchester of France ; filled with a manu- 
facturing, money-getting tribe, who wear their hearts 
in their purses. The sight of an Englishman is 
wormwood to them ; and well it may — for we seem 
to be travelling fast towards surpassing them even 
in their own staple manufacture. 

The first view of Lyons is grand ; the Rhone and 
the Saone flow through it in parallel lines, and the 
broad-paved quays of the Rhone are magnificent. 

First sight of French soldiery ; — fine stout looking 
men ; but their pale livery has a bad effect. 

29th. There are several interesting Roman an- 
tiquities in the neighbourhood of Lyons ; and the 
aqueducts of Marc Anthony still remain on the 
mountain Fourvieres. 

At the Hotel de Ville are the celebrated bronze 
tablets which record a memorable speech of the 
Emperor Claudius. 

Made a tour of the principal silk manufactories ; 
and, without professing to be a very accurate judge, 



1S18.] lyoxs. 345 

I thought not only their pocket-handerchiefs, but 
their silk stockings, very inferior to our own. The 
price of a handkerchief is five francs ; a pair of silk 
stockings of the hest quality costs twelve francs. 
In all their stuffs the inferiority of the French taste 
in the pattern is very conspicuous; at least it is 
generally what we should call staring, flaunting, 
and vulgar — but perhaps there is no disputing about 
taste in the patterns of silk. 

Lyons seems to be full of Buonapartists. They 
received him with enthusiasm on his return from 
Elba; and yet one might have thought that the 
recollections of the reign of terror — of Collot 
d'Herbois, Fouche, and Chalier — would have given 
a bias to the Lyonese politics against this child and 
champion of the Revolution. 

30th. Nothing can be more evident than the 
hostile feeling towards England and Englishmen, 
which manifests itself here on every occasion. Xor 
is it surprising, when we consider that the Lyonese 
regard us as the causes of the decline of their com- 
merce ; for the dulness of trade is as much the 
subject of complaint here as every where else, at the 
present moment; and the odium mercatorium is 
perhaps, next to the odium theologicum, one of the 
deadliest sources of enmity. 

The Valets de Place pointed out with precision 
the spot where Hannibal crossed the Rhone ; though 
Whittaker, who acts as moderator between Poly bi us 
and Livy, and occasionally sets them both right, 
would wish to make it quite clear that he crossed 
the river at Loriol in Dauphiny ; and that he 



346 JOURNEY TO MONTPELLIER. . [oCT. 

marched up the course of the Rhone, keeping the 
river on his left, all the way to Geneva. 

The accounts I hear of the climate of this place 
dissuade me from thinking of passing the winter 
here. No place is more subject to sudden changes 
from heat to cold. There is also a great deal of 
rain, and the winter is cold and long. Besides, it is 
not pleasant to reside in a town where the public 
feeling is so hostile to you ; and amongst a people 
who look daggers at you, though they may use none. 

October 1st. The great hospital at Lyons is a 
noble establishment, and all the arrangements are 
calculated to promote the comfort of the patients. 
It is attended by the Soeurs de la charite, who 
officiate as nurses, with a kind spirit of benevolence 
that must be as beneficial to the minds as to the 
bodies of their patients. 

One cannot look without respect and admiration 
at these devoted sisters of Christianity, whose pro- 
fession of vows has been made with a view to enlarge 
rather than to contract the sphere of their utility. 

None of the common objections to monastic insti- 
tutions have any application to this order of nuns, 
which is founded on a practical imitation of the 
conduct of their Divine Master, who, according to 
the simple narrative of the Evangelist, " went about 
doing good." 

2nd. While I was deliberating into what quarter 
of the world I should move, I stumbled on a voitu- 
rier, who was on the point of setting out for Mont- 
pellier. When you have no decided will of your 
own, the best way, I believe, is to commit yourself 



ISIS.] JOURNEY TO M0XTPELL1ER. 347 

to the tide of events, and let them carry you quo- 
cunque ferat tempestas. — At least it was in this 
disposition of mind that I hurried back to my hotel 
to collect my packages, — and before I had time to 
consider whether I had done well or ill, I found 
myself at Vienne, where we slept. At this place, 
there are some relics of the Romans ; and the people 
show you a house which they tell you belonged to 
Pontius Pilate, and in which they would have you 
believe that he died. 

It was here that Pius VI. the late Pope, breathed 
his last, who confirmed by the misfortunes of his 
reign the presentiment to which his title had given 
rise ; for the number six has always been consi- 
dered at Rome as ominous. 

Tarquinius Sextus was the very worst of the 
Tarquins, and his brutal conduct led to a revolution 
in the government ; — it was under Urban the sixth, 
that the great schism of the west broke out ; — and 
Alexander the sixth outdid in crime all that his 
predecessors amongst the Tarquins, or the Popes, 
had ventured to do before him. It was during his 
papacy, that the line was written, which in after 
times was applied to the election of his successor 
Pius VI. 

" Semper sub sextis perdita Roma fait. 5 ' 

In Pius VI. 's life, " nothing became him like the 
leaving of it;" and he attracted more respect by 
the piety and resignation with which he bore the 
insults heaped upon him by the French during his 
captivity, than he could ever have commanded in 
the palace of the Vatican. 



34S SCENERY OF THE RHONE. [OCT. 

3rd. I should have embarked in the Cocke cVeau 
at Lyons, and descended the Rhone to Avignon ; 
but the pleasure of this scheme depends entirely 
upon the state of the wind. If this be adverse, as 
in the present case, you may be detained many days, 
and there is no certainty of arriving at any habit- 
able inn to rest at night. The views of the river 
with the surrounding scenery have to-day been very 
pleasing ; but it would be profanation to compare 
them with the lovely Wye, and " the dear blue hills 
of my own country." 

The more I see of France, the less am I able to 
understand how it has gained the title of La belle 
France. The phrase cannot certainly refer to pic- 
turesque beauty, of which no country has less to 
boast. Perhaps this deficiency may in some measure 
account for the utter want of taste for the beauties 
of nature, in the English sense of that phrase, which 
is so remarkable a feature in the French character. 

A Frenchman cannot understand the feeling that 
is delighted with the contemplation of picturesque 
beauty ; it is as unintelligible to him, as the plea- 
sure of music to a man who has no ear. 

His beau ideal of landscape is that which pro- 
duces the greatest quantity of corn, wine, and oil. 
He will indeed chatter about les belles horreurs of 
a Swiss scene ; but the very terms he uses prove 
how incapable he is of communing with nature, and 
interpreting the language she speaks in the sublime 
scenes which she there addresses to the imagination. 

4th. La belle France grows dirtier and dirtier. 
Sunday is no sabbath here. All the shops are open, 



1813.] MILITARY MANIA. 349 

and every thing goes on as usual. Even the 
butchers are at work, elbow-deep, in their horrid 
occupation. We halted in the middle of the day at 
the little town of Tain, near which are the vineyards 
so famous for their red and white Hermitage. This 
tract, however, cannot supply a tithe of the wine 
which is sold under that name. It is a small black 
grape, rough and unpleasant upon the palate. It 
would seem that all the good wine is exported, for 
the sample which was given me as the best was but 
ordinary stuff. The end of our day's journey 
brought us to Valence. It was at the military 
school of this place that Napoleon was educated, 
and he practised the first lessons of the art of war 
on the Champ de Mars of Valence. 

There is a story current here, that, from want of 
means, he was reduced to the necessity of leaving 
his boarding-house without paying his 'pension. 

5th. As you advance towards the south, the 
country becomes richer, and begins to wear an 
Italian appearance. 

Encountered a large troop of deserters. In Eng- 
land it requires three guards to prevent one deserter 
from running away. Here, fifty deserters are con- 
ducted by three gens d'armes, like so many beasts 
being driven to a fair. They were most of them 
mere boys, and apparently in great misery. 

The military spirit seems to have evaporated ; or 
the white flag has not the same fascination that the 
tri-coloured possessed. Under Napoleon, the mili- 
tary were every thing; and the only road to honour 
and power was through the profession of arms. 



350 LORIOL. [OCT. 

The airs of consequence which the army assumed, 
and the tyranny which they exercised over all the 
rest of the world, to whom they applied the con- 
temptuous appellation of pequins, were almost as 
intolerable as the old grievances of which the Rotu- 
riers complained against the Nobles. 

This is no longer the case. The prestige of mili- 
tary glory received its death-blow at Waterloo ; 
and the army feel now, that they no longer enjoy 
that paramount weight and consideration in public 
opinion, upon which their insolence was founded ; 
Fortuna ssevo laeta negotio, et 
Ludum insolentem ludere pertinax, 
Transmutat incertos honores — 

Fame and honour are now to be gained by fighting 
the battles of the senate, towards which the public 
attention and public interest are almost exclusively 
directed. 

I deviated from the road at Loriol, to examine the 
banks of the river at this point, where Whittaker would 
demonstrate that Hannibal passed with his army. 
He relies much upon a passage in Livy describing 
Hannibal's course after he had passed the river : 

" Postero A die, profectus adversa ripa Rhodani, 
mediterranea Gallice petit, non quia rectior ad 
Alpes via esset, sed, quantum a mari recessisset 
minus obvium fore Romanum credens, cum quo 
priusquam in Italiam ventum foret, non erat in 
animo manus conserere. Quartis castris, ad in- 
sulam pervenit ; ibi Arar Rhodanusque amnes con- 
fiuunt in unumP 

So far so good. — Loriol would certainly be about 



ISIS.] LORIOL. 351 

four days' march from Lyons, where the Rhone 
and the Arar (now the Saone) unite, and where 
they once formed an island. 

But, if the authourity of Livy is to be relied on, 
how shall we reconcile what he says afterward?, 
with the supposition of Hannibal's having- inarched 
up the Rhone to Lyons ? — Livy says, that after 
leaving this island; — " quum jam Alpes peter et, 
non recta, regione iter instituit, seel ad IcBvam in 
Tricastinos flexit, inde per extremam oram Vocon- 
tiorum agri tetendit Tricorios, hand usquam impe- 
dita via priusqiiam acl Druentiam flumen perrenit" 
Now, the Tricastini were to the south of Loriol ; 
and how he could have passed per extremam oram 
Vocontiorum, to arrive at the Tricorii, will puzzle 
any one who will examine the map. But the last is 
the greatest riddle of all ; what could bring him to 
the Druentia, now La Durance? Again, if Livy 
be correct, Hannibal passed the river in Volcarum 
agrum, which can hardly be made to extend to 
Loriol. But I believe we must conclude, from 
reading Livy's account of this matter, which is 
throughout so inconsistent with itself, that he wrote 
it without his map of Gaul before him, or else, that 
our map of Gaul is very different from his*. 

* Since writing the above, I have read an ingenious trea- 
tise, by M. de Luc of Geneva ; who takes the text of Polybius 
for his guide, and gives very satisfactory reasons for setting 
Livy aside, wherever their authorities differ. 31. de Luc 
makes Hannibal cross the Rhone lower down than Loriol, in 
the neighbourhood of Avignon. His four days r march then 
brings him to the /sere, at the point where it fails into the 
Rhone. This river, which in the different editions of Polybius 
is called hear or Scoras, by a corruption of the Latin text 



352 REVOLUTIONARY HORRORS. [OCT. 

We halted at night at Montelimart. 

6th. Near Montelimart was the Chateau de 
Grignan ; where Madame de Sdvigne fell a victim 
to maternal anxiety, and was buried in the family 
vault. The Chateau was destroyed during the fury 
of the Revolution, and the leaden coffins in the 
vaults presented too valuable a booty to be spared, 
by the brutal ruffians of those days. The body of 
Madame de Sc'vigne had been embalmed, and was 
found in a state of perfect preservation, richly 
dressed ; — but no respect was paid to virtue even in 
the grave ; every thing, even to the dress she wore, 
was pillaged and taken away; and the naked corpse 
left to mingle, as it might, with its native dust. 

which puzzled the Commentators, has been converted by the 
editors of Livy, from Bisarar, into Avar, If, instead of three 
letters, they had been content with removing one, it would 
have left Isarar, which is very nearly its modern name. This 
then is the Insula at which Hannibal arrives; — viz. that tract 
of country insulated on all sides but one, by the Rhone and 
the Isere. He then makes for the Alps, but not directly, on 
account of the mountains of les Eckelles, over which there was 
no road at that time. He turns therefore ad Icevam ; — that is, 
instead of due east, he marches north-east round these moun- 
tains, until he comes to the Druentia, which is not the Durance, 
— but the Drance. This river runs through Chamberry, and 
falls into the Rhone near Yenne — the ancient Ejanna. M. de 
Luc. whose reasoning is for the most part clear and con- 
vincing, conducts Hannibal from the Drance to the pass of the 
little St. Bernard, and so down the valley of Aoste to Ivree. 
Here Hannibal is obliged to deviate from his direct road, in 
order to take Turin — the capital of the ancient Taurini, whose 
alliance^ he had been unable to conciliate ; after which he 
marches with all haste to encounter Scipio on the banks of the 
Ticinus — now the Tesino; — and there M. de Luc leaves him. 



ISIS.] REVOLUTIONARY HORRORS. 353 

This unnatural war with the dead is one of the 
most revolting features of the French revolution. 
What must be the character of that people who 
could find gratification in rifling the sanctuary of 
the tomb ; and who, carrying their enmity beyond 
the grave, could glut their brutal and cowardly 
revenge in offering insults to the defenceless re- 
mains of the most illustrious characters in the his- 
tory of their country? No respect was paid to rank, 
or sex, or virtue ; and this was not a solitary out- 
rage, committed at a single place, but the general 
practice throughout France. A fellow passenger 
tells me that he saw the body of Laura, the mistress 
of Petrarch, exposed to the most brutal indignities 
in the streets of Avignon. It had been embalmed, 
and was found in a mummy state, of a dark brown 
colour. It was the same every where ; — the best 
and the worst of the Bourbons — Henry IV. — and 
Louis XI. were exposed to equal indignities ; nor 
could the deeds of Turenne himself protect his 
corpse from the profanation of these ferocious viola- 
tors. All the cruelties committed upon the living, 
during the reign of blood and terror, will not stamp 
the French name with so indelible a stain, as these 
unmanly outrages upon the dead. The first may 
find some palliation, weak as it is, in the party rage, 
and political animosity, of an infuriated populace ; 
— but what can be urged in extenuation of the 
last ? it is worse than the fury of the beasts ; for of 
the Lion at least we are told — that he " preys not 
upon carcasses." I blush, in venting my indignation 
against the French, at the recollection of the indig- 



354 LANGUEDOC KITCHEN. [OCT. 

nities that were offered in my own country, to the 
remains of Cromwell and of Blake, who were both 
taken from Westminster Abbey — the first, to be 
hanged at Tyburn and buried under the gallows — 
and the last, to be cast into a pit in St. Margaret's 
church; but I console myself with thinking, that 
this was done by the "express command" of the 
government of that day, in which the people had 
no share, and by which, I trust, our character as a 
nation cannot be affected. 

We crossed the Rhone at the Pont du St. Esprit, 
which is 3000 feet long, being nearly three times 
the length of the bridge at Westminster. It is 
turned against the stream with a point like a bastion. 
From the road you command a view of the Pont 
du Card, a splendid relic of Roman architecture, 
built to connect the ranges of an aqueduct which 
extends for seventeen miles; — fragments of which 
are still remaining in various parts of the hills. 

The first entrance into Languedoc is not pre- 
possessing ; as you travel to the south you find all 
the comforts of civilization decrease, and dirt and 
wretchedness flourish. — Slept at Bagnols. 

7th. The kitchen of a village inn at Languedoc 
is enough to damp the strongest appetite. I wished 
for the pencil of Wilkie at Remoulins, a little village 
where we breakfasted this morning. While the 
host, who played as many parts as Buskin in the 
farce, was killing the devoted fowl, his cat ran away 
with the sausages intended to garnish it. Poor 
Chanticleer was laid down to finish his death-song 
as he could, while the host pursued puss to her 



1818.] LANGUED0C. 355 

retreat, which was so well chosen, that a third of 
the sausages were gone before he discovered her. 
Puss however paid dearly for it in the end ; — for in 
endeavouring to make her escape under a door, the 
aperture was so small that her hinder legs and tail 
were left on the hither side of it, upon which mine 
host wreaked his vengeance, by stamping most un- 
mercifully. At last we sat down to Grimalkin's leav- 
ings ; and though the landlord had no " appliances 
and means" to help him, nor scarcely a stick of wood 
with which to make a fire, he did contrive, somehow 
or other, to furnish a very tolerable breakfast ; and 
this seems to be the great merit of French cookery 
— that it can make something out of nothing. 
Moliere observes that any body can dress a dinner 
with money and materials ; and if a professed cook 
cannot do it without, his art is not worth a farthing. 

This part of Languedoc may be very rich and 
productive, but nothing can be less pleasing to the 
eye — stone walls instead of hedges — no meadows 
— no cattle — and no trees, but the olive, which add 
little to the beauty of the landscape. 

A poor Carmelite nun joined our party, who had 
been driven out of her convent in Spain by the 
French, and was now seeking an asylum. 

The rigid austerities practised in her convent had 
not however extinguished entirely the vanity of her 
sex, some remains of which still lurked under her 
coarse black hood, breaking out in the delight with 
which she traced up the antiquity of her order, 
higher than all other monastic institutions, to Elijah, 
and mount Carmel. 

* 2 a 2 



356 NISMES. [OCT. 

Nismes, where we arrived in the evening, is full 
of Roman antiquities * There is an amphitheatre 
in good preservation ; and the Maison Quarree, as 
it is called, is one of the most beautiful relics of 
ancient architecture that have come down to us. 
It has been supposed that this temple was built in 
the reign of Augustus ; and Monsieur Seguier has 
contrived to decipher an inscription which contains 
the names of Marcus Agrippa, and his sons ; but 
this inscription is not very satisfactorily made out ; 
and those arguments seem to be the strongest, 
which, from a comparison of the minuteness and 
profusion of ornament of the Maison Quarree with 
the more simple architecture of the Augustan age, 
would fix its date at a later period. 

8th. My first impression of the French character 
is, that it must be greatly changed from that gay and 
lively frivolity, of which we used to hear so much. 
My fellow-passengers are serious and reserved ; each 
man seems to suspect his neighbour; and at the 
Table d'Hote, where I have dined and supped during 
my route, the company could not have been more 
silent and sombre, if the scene had been laid in Eng- 
land during the month of November. There is a 
crest-fallen look about them, and they shake their 
heads and shrug their shoulders when they talk of 
the Congress, in gloomy apprehension of the future. 

This seventh day's journey brought us toMontpel- 
lier ; where, being heartily tired of the jumbling of 
the carriage, I was well disposed to make a halt. 

* About twelve miles from Nismes is the Pont du Gard, one 
of the most perfect and magnificent Roman aqueducts remaining 
— constructed to supply the city with pure water. (See Frontis- 
piece.) 



ISIS.] 357 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Montpellier — Climate — Party Spirit — Conscription — Buffon — 
Iron Mask — Rousseau — Journey to Toulouse — Beziers — 
Canal of Languedoc. 

October 9th. The situation of Montpellier is very 
fine ; and the environs are pretty. The view from 
the Place de Peyrou, where from one spot you see 
the Mediterranean to the south, and on a fine day 
may command the Pyrenees to the west, and the 
Alps to the east, is superb. All the statues which 
once ornamented this place were destroyed during 
the iconoclastic fury of the revolution. 

10th. Engaged a lodging in a clean protestant 
family on the Boulevard de la Comedie ; and for 
two rooms am to pay sixty francs per month. I 
w r ould rather have established myself in a maisGii 
de pension, but there is no such thing in Montpel- 
lier ; so that one is forced to dine at a restaurateur's, 
which to an invalid in winter-time is a serious in- 
convenience. 

There is a custom amongst the restaurateurs in 
this part of France, which to a resident is worth 
knowing. If you dine regularly at the same house, 
you may, by paying a certain sum in advance, have 
credit for one-fifth more than you have paid. 

11th to 18th. A week of severe illness. It is 
difficult to conceive how Montpellier ever obtained 



358 MONTPELLIER CLIMATE. [OCT. 

a name for the salubrity of its climate. For pec- 
toral complaints it is probably one of the worst in 
the world. It is true, there is almost always a clear 
blue sky ; but the air is sharp and biting-, and you 
are constantly assailed by the bise, or the marin; — 
and it is difficult to say which of these two winds 
is the most annoying. 

The one brings cold, and the other damp. The 
climates of Europe are but little understood in Eng- 
land, nor indeed is it an easy thing to ascertain the 
truth, with respect to climate. Travellers generally 
speak from the impression of a single season, and 
we all know how much seasons vary. 

I believe that Pisa is the very best place on the 
continent during the winter for complaints of the 
chest ; and Nice, of which I speak from good au- 
thority, is perhaps the very worst. The air of the 
first, which is situated in a low plain, is warm, mild, 
and muggy ; that of the second is pure, keen, and 
piercing. The air of Montpellier is of this latter 
character ; — it is as different from Pisa, as frisky 
cider from milk and water, and every mouthful of 
it irritates weak lungs, and sets them coughing. 
If there be any climate preferable to Pisa, it may 
perhaps be Rome ; where the air is pure without 
being piercing ; and, if one might illustrate it by a 
comparison with a liquor, I should compare it to 
cowslip wine. 

19th. Nothing can be more dull than Montpel- 
lier is at present. There is nothing going on in the 
shape of amusement or instruction. It is vacation, 
and the lecture-rooms are shut. There is but little 



1818.] MONTPELLIER PARTY SPIRIT. 359 

society ; and the good people here, as if civil 
dudgeon were not enough to set folks together by 
the ears, have seasoned their dissensions with the 
sauce piquante of religious hatred — and are with 
difficulty restrained from cutting each other's throats. 
While the present king lives, things may continue 
quiet ; but the protestants seem to fear that, under 
his more orthodox brother, the tragedy of St. Bar- 
tholomew might be revived. 

Nor do these fears seem to be wholly without 
foundation. The scenes that took place here and at 
Nisrnes, in 1815, after the second abdication of 
Napoleon, were dreadful. The triumph of a party 
in France is something more than a change of mi- 
nistry ; for the re-aciion that it produces amongst 
the inflammable inhabitants of the southern pro- 
vinces is followed by proscriptions and massacres. 

The party that is uppermost cannot be content 
without cutting the throats of their opponents. 
This they proceeded to do in 1815, but the king in- 
terposed to check the outrageous zeal of his ultra- 
adherents ; and this is likely to happen again at any 
time, if, instead of endeavouring to be the common 
protector of all his people, the king, by the formation 
of an ultra-royalist ministry, were content to be the 
head of a faction. 

The way in which the election of deputies for the 
department of Gard was conducted in the year 1815, 
shows the means by which the ruling party in this 
part of the world would wish to maintain its as- 
cendency ; — no less than thirteen protestant electors 
were assassinated in their w 7 ay to the electoral 
college. 



360 3IONTPELLIER CONSCRIPTION. [OCT. 

One is astonished by the amount of the popu- 
lation in the French towns; Nismes is said to 
contain forty thousand souls, and Montpellier five- 
and-thirty thousand ; and you wonder where they 
can be stowed. 

I am surprised to find at this place, which has 
been so long the resort of well-informed people, 
such a lamentable inattention to the most indis- 
pensable comforts and decencies of life. It would re- 
quire the pen of Winifred Jenkins herself to describe 
some of the miserable expedients of la belle France ! 

Attended at the theatre, which was crowded to 
excess, to witness the drawing for the Conscription. 

This law, which was held up as the great motive 
for resisting the tyranny of Napoleon, is nevertheless 
still continued by his successors. 

The drawing was an amusing scene and truly 
French. The people assemble in a sort of amphi- 
theatre. The Prefet presides. The names of all 
those of the prescribed age are called over ; and 
every man of whatever rank, high or low, answers to 
his name, and draws his lot. If he is absent, the 
Prefet draws it for him. When any one drew a 
number above the complement required, thereby 
ensuring his own exemption, his antics of joy were 
in the highest degree comic ; and when the number 
was within the complement, the exultation of the 
spectators, whose own prospects were thereby bet- 
tered, were expressed by the loudest applause, 
without any consideration for the feelings of the 
drawer. The present assessment is light enough, as 
may be collected from the price of a substitute, who 



ISIS.] MONTPELLIER CONSCRIPTION. 361 

may now be procured for 500 francs, whereas, in 
Napoleon's time, the price has been as high as 
14,000 francs. 

There needs but one law more — a property tax, 
which is a conscription of money, as the other is of 
men — the one operating on the purses, as the other 
does upon the persons of men — to complete a perfect 
system of despotism. 

Wherever these two laws are thoroughly esta- 
blished, and the people trained to submit to them, 
the rights of personal security and private property 
are annihilated. 

If governments would never raise more men or 
more money than the public interest required, both 
these laws are perhaps the best, because the simplest, 
the fairest, and the cheapest, in arriving at their 
object. But constituted as human nature is, none 
but an essentially popular government could be 
trusted with such a tremendous engine, which 
would place at its disposal every man, and every 
shilling that he has — in case of necessity ; — a plea 
which was never yet wanting to justify any exercise 
of power. 

Napoleon did in fact take away the whole po- 
pulation at one fell swoop, and there is no saying 
where a property tax might stop, on this side of 
ninety-nine per cent. For the principle of the tax 
once admitted, the Sorites argument would never be 
wanting, to furnish the minister of finance with a 
pretence for plucking out one more hair; 

'• Utor permisso, caudseque pilos ut equinse 

Paullatim vello: et demo unum demo etiam untim ; 
Dura cadat elusus ratione mentis acervi." 



362 MONTPELLIER PROPERTY TAX. [OCT. 

Still, however, there are so many arguments in 
favour of a property tax properly modified, that in 
a free government like England, where the people, 
through their representatives, exercise a control 
over the national expenditure, there seems but one 
condition wanting to make it the best, as it is un- 
questionably the fairest and cheapest mode of raising 
money, which is, that it should be the only tax. In 
this case, it might safely be trusted to the feelings 
of the representatives themselves, to take care that 
a tax, which came home so immediately to their own 
business and bosoms, was not unnecessarily increased. 

If this had been the system of raising the supplies 
in England during the last century, it may well be 
doubted whether such vast sums would have been 
expended; — sums which are easily voted, when it is 
proposed that they shall be raised by an increase of 
duty of a halfpenny upon this, and a penny on that 
article ; — a proposal that is agreed to, as a matter of 
course, and nobody thinks it worth while to pause 
and consider from whose pocket the money is to 
come. If then all other taxes were abolished, the 
property tax might be hailed as a security for eco- 
nomy of expenditure, as it is in itself the least 
expensive of all taxes, in the collection. It has 
been calculated that a man, already pays at least the 
half of his income, in some shape or other, to the 
support of government. If this be so, he would 
surely not fare the worse by paying the same sum 
openly as a 50 per cent, duty upon property ; which 
would then reach the exchequer without being sub- 
jected to the enormous deductions that are now 
made from it by all the various charges of collection. 



1818.] MONTPELLIER PROPERTY TAX. 363 

This would then be the only shape in which the 
tax-gatherer would appear, and England might 
hope to become again, beyond all others, the land of 
cheapness and plenty. 

But if the property tax be brought forward only 
when all other means fail ; for there is a limit to 
indirect taxation — when two and two no longer 
make four — when increase of duty only produces 
decrease of consumption — if it be introduced as the 
pincers, to extract those sums which will not yield 
to the common turn-screw of taxation, — it must 
then be regarded as an additional weight to the 
already enormous burden, under the pressure of 
which the agriculture, the trade, and the prosperity 
of the country are now languishing. 

It would not be one of the least advantages of 
such a system of taxation, that it would take away 
the arguments of those who, for their own purposes, 
seek to persuade the labouring classes that the 
principal part of the taxes, as at present imposed, is 
paid by them. These arguments, however, have 
manifestly no foundation ; for no axiom of political 
economy seems more clear, than that the taxes upon 
the necessaries of life are not, in point of fact, paid 
by the labouring classes themselves; and that by 
increasing or diminishing the duty of any article of 
their necessary consumption, little more is done, as 
it regards them, than eventually, to increase or 
diminish the rate of their wages. They do indeed 
feel all taxes, but it is remotely, and in the same 
way that they would really feel the property tax ; — 
namely, by the operation of that and every other tax 



364 MONTPELLIER CONSCRIFTS. [OCT. 

upon capital, in abridging the means of employing 
them. 

One of the conscripts behaved so riotously, that 
the gens d'armes took him into custody ; but, as 
they were conducting him through the streets, his 
mother raised a mob in his favour, who, after a 
sharp struggle, succeeded in rescuing the prisoner 
from his keepers, and bore him off in triumph. 

20th. While sitting at breakfast this morning, I 
saw my hero of yesterday with his mother, tied back 
to back in a cart, escorted by a large party of cavalry, 
who lodged them safely in the prison of the town. 

Attended the drill of the recruits, which is con- 
stantly going on, as if France were preparing for 
an immediate campaign. The dishabille of the 
soldiers, especially of the cavalry, is very slovenly. 
The infantry march to the sound of the drum alone, 
for there are no fifers amongst them. The troops in 
this quarter are small, slight, and scraggy ; and if I 
am not mistaken, there is more of muscle and sinew 
in one Englishman than in half a score of them. I 
speak only of the infantry ; for there is a great con- 
trast between them and the cavalry, who seemed to 
be picked men. Went to the theatre for the first, 
and for the last time. The actors were worse than I 
ever saw in England. 

21st to 28th. Confined to the house. Rambled 
through Buffon's Discours sur la Nature des 
Animaux — which is very ingenious and clever, ex- 
cepting his blasphemy against love, of which he 
seems to have had a very low opinion. He seems to 
think that love and friendship cannot be identified, 



1818.] MOXTPELLIER BUFFON. 365 

and felt for the same object. Did he judge from 
his experience of French women ? 

Buffon, with all his eloquence, is a remarkable 
instance of that national coarseness and grossness of 
feeling, which is so much the characteristic of the 
French. They are eminently deficient in sensibility, 
imagination, and enthusiasm ; when they attempt to 
be sentimental, they do but talk it, — and cannot 
even talk it well. I doubt whether the Pleasures of 
Imagination could be made intelligible to them by 
any translation. Every man thinks he knows the 
meaning of sentiment; — and yet, it is a difficult 
word to define, without determining its application ; 
but I believe it is commonly used in opposition to 
mere animal sense, which is all that the French 
word sentiment often signifies. For instance, the 
sentiment of love, in our use of the word, is some- 
thing very different from the animal sense, which 
may be perhaps the foundation of the passion be- 
tween the sexes. It is sense refined and exalted, 
through the influence of mind, by purer thoughts, 
and higher considerations ; which, while they strip 
the passion of its grossness, increase its intensity 
and energy, and by expanding its views, convert the 
transitory enjoyment of animal desire into a feeling 
as durable and lasting as the mind itself. 

But, let us hear Buffon on this subject. " Amour ! 

Desir inne ! Ame de la Nature ! Source fcconde 

de tout plaisir, de toute volupte, pourquoi fais-tu 
Pttat heureux de tous les etres, et le malheur de 
l'homme ? 

" C'est qu'il n'y a que la physique de cette pas- 



366 MOXTPELLIER BUFFON. [OCT. 

sion qui soit bon ; c'est que, malgre ce que peuveut 

dire les gens epris, le moral n'en vaut rien. 

Les animaux, guides par le sentiment seul leurs 

desirs sont toujours proportionnes a la puissance de 
jouir; ils sentent autant qu'ils jouissent, et ils ne 
jouissent qu'autant qu'ils sentent. 

" L'homme, au contraire, en voulant inventer des 
plaisirs, n'a fait que gater la Nature. 

" Tout ce qu'il y a de bon dans l'amour appar- 
tient done aux animaux tout aussi bien qu'a nous." 

Who but a Frenchman could have written thus ? 
but a Frenchman cannot rise out of the mire of 
sensuality; and their literature is full of sneers and 
ridicule of that enthusiasm of heart, and elevation 
of soul, which seek to improve our nature, 
u And lift from earth our low desire." 

29th. Inspection of soldiers, and grand field-day. 
Nothing can be less showy than the appearance of 
the infantry. They have no feathers or tufts in their 
caps, nor fifers in their band. In going through 
the manual exercise, the French seem to be much 
quicker than any soldiers I have seen. For instance 
— present arms — and — order arms — are performed 
at two motions ; which in our own drill, I believe, 
employ three distinct acts. 

The soldiers are as rapid in executing manoeuvres, 
as in going through the exercise. But the word of 
command is much more noisy than with us ; and it 
is repeated and vociferated by the officers, from the 
colonel downwards, so as to resemble the hallooing 
of cattle-drivers. 

30th. Crawled round the botanical garden ; — 



ISIS.] MONTPELLIER THE IRON MASK. 367 

the pleasantest promenade in Montpellier. It was 
here that Young, the poet, buried his daughter. 
The longer I stay at Montpellier, the less I like it. 
The inhabitants are characterised in the proverbs of 
their own country. Pound seven Jews in a mortar, 
.-ays one of these, and the juice will make one 
Montpelliard. — Proverbs must always be understood 
with some grains of allowance ; though they have 
generally a foundation in truth. But, it would be 
unfair to judge of Montpellier during the vacation. 
It is a celebrated school of medicine; and the lectures, 
in that liberal spirit which distinguishes the public 
institutions of this country — and I am glad of an 
opportunity of speaking in favour of France — are 
open to all that choose to attend, without any expense. 

31st. Stumbled, " in the course of my reading," 
upon an account of the taking of the Bastile, in 
which there is an attempt to clear up the mystery 
of the man in the iron mask. It is stated that a 
paper was found, recording the arrival of Fouquet 
in the Bastile from the island of St. Marguerite, in 
an iron mask. 

This suggestion receives some corroboration from 
the history of Fouquet's disgrace and punishment; 
in which there are such remarkable coincidences 
with the history of the Iron Mask, that I am sur- 
prised Voltaire, who, in his Age of Louis XIV., 
relates Fouquet's fail immediately after his account 
of the mysterious prisoner, was not struck with them. 
For, he tells us that Fouquet was sent to the Isle of 
St. Marguerite, and that the Iron Mask was brought 
from the Isle of St. Marguerite ; and, in concluding 



368 MONTPELLIER THE IRON MASK. [OCT. 

Fouquet's history, he adds this remarkable circum- 
stance, — that while the smallest action of his life 
was celebrated with the most minute detail, nobody 
knew when or where he died. 

Voltaire is unable to explain, and indeed there is 
something unaccountable, in the mystery and pre- 
caution which were thought necessary in the arrest 
and detention of Fouquet. The same reasons, what- 
ever they were, might have suggested the continued 
concealment of his person in the iron mask, which 
has given rise to so much speculation. 

Fouquet was arrested in 1661, — the precise date 
of the Iron Mask's arrival in the Island of St. Mar- 
guerite. We know that, after an imprisonment of 
twenty-nine years, the Iron Mask was removed 
from St. Marguerite, by the keeper of the prison in 
that island, to the Bastile, upon his appointment to 
the governorship of that fortress. Now, Voltaire 
tells us, that though nothing certain was known 
with respect to Fouquet's end, yet there was a notion 
amongst his friends, that he had quitted the Island 
of St. Marguerite before his death. 

These are remarkable coincidences ; nor is there 
any thing in Fouquet's age to make the identity of 
these two persons impossible. The removal of the 
Iron Mask to the Bastile took place in 1690, and he 
died in 1703, after a captivity of forty-two years. 
Fouquet was born in 1615, and was Intendant 
General of the Finances in 1643, at the age of 
twenty-eight. In 1661, the date of his arrest, he 
was forty-six, and forty-two years of captivity will 
make him eighty-eight at the time of his death ; — 



1S18.] MONTPELLIER ROUSSEAU. 369 

that is, if he were indeed the Iron Mask who died 
in 1703. 

November 1st to 8th. A week of confinement. 
Rambled through Voltaire, Bayle, and Rousseau. 
Rousseau's " Confession of a Savoyard Curate," 
though written, as it would seem, to invalidate the 
authority of Christianity, leaves behind an impression 
in its favour, stronger perhaps than is produced by 
most works written purposely to defend it. 

And indeed, Bishop Porteus has not disdained to 
quote it from the pulpit, to advocate the cause of 
religion. It is one of the most splendid specimens 
of eloquence extant in any language, and the whole 
tone of the sentiments illustrates a passage in one 
of Voltaire's letters to Hume. " You are mistaken," 
says he, " in Rousseau ; he has a hankering after 
the Bible, — and is little better than a Christian 
after a fashion of his own." 

After all, what is there that can be urged against 
Christianity, which may not be directed with equal 
force against Deism ? The doubts of the Atheist, 
considered as a question of abstract reasoning, can 
only perhaps be answered, — as Berkeley's reasoning 
against the existence of the material world was 
answered — by boldly begging the question at issue, 
and resolving the cause of our belief into an original 
principle of our constitution. For the existence of 
an infinite First Cause can never be made a matter 
of demonstration. The physical proof, derived from 
the order and arrangement of the universe, is mani- 
festly inconclusive. The intelligence of the work 
may prove an intelligent contriver : — but it cannot 

2b 



370 MONTPELLIER — ROUSSEAU. [NOV. 

therefore follow, that the contriver is Eternal — 
Almighty — Infinite — all, in a word, that we include 
under the sacred name. Again, the metaphysical 
proof, as it is called, which, from the consciousness 
of our own existence, would trace it up to some 
necessarily existing first cause, is not a jot more 
satisfactory. The sum and substance of the whole 
argument amounts to this. I exist — therefore some- 
thing exists. If something exists — something must 
have existed from all eternity ; for " Nothing can 
come of nothing ;" — and this something is the first 
cause, of which we are in search. But the axiom 
on which this argument is founded, ex nihilo nihil 
fit, will cut both ways ; and it is perhaps more in- 
comprehensible to human faculties to conceive an 
uncaused first cause, than to meet the difficulty in 
the first stage ; — and consider the world itself as 
uncaused and eternal. The Atheist indeed neither 
affirms nor denies ; but suggests that the existence 
of a Deity is an arbitrary hypothesis, to account for 
the phenomena of the universe. Can the Deist 
confute him by argument ? Must he not at last be 
brought to acknowledge that his own belief is 
founded upon faith ? — and the speculative Atheist 
will probably not deny that it is a faith, which we 
all feel impelled, by the very constitution of our 
nature, to admit intuitively, as soon as we can com- 
prehend the terms of the proposition ; — for Atheism 
is a doctrine which, however the head may be 
amused with its subtleties, the heart rejects. But 
does the faith of the Deist go far enough ? Will 
Deism satisfy the head, or administer consolation to 



1818.] JOURNEY TO TOULOUSE. 371 

the heart ? Is it not a cold and comfortless creed, 
alike unsatisfactory to both ? — unless indeed we 
could return again to Paradise. Adam might have 
been a Deist, and contentedly a deist ; but fallen 
man has need of something more. The world is no 
longer a happy garden. Evil assaults us on every 
side ; and we need not look farther than our own 
hearts, for evidence of the continued existence of 
that rebellious opposition to sense of duty, which 
we are taught was the cause of its introduction into 
the world. But be the cause what it might — the 
existence of evil, in every appalling form, cannot be 
denied ; here it is ; and how will the Deist reconcile 
these phenomena with his abstract ideas of a Deity, 
without having recourse to the Revelation that he 
denies ? — which not only explains the fearful mystery 
of our present situation, but at the same time points 
out the remedy ; and furnishes us with assurances, 
which unassisted reason could never have suggested, 
by which we are enabled to look forward with faith 
and hope to a better state of existence hereafter. 

9th. Left Montpellier in the diligence at night ; 
and arrived at Beziers to breakfast next morning. 

The French diligences have been very much im- 
proved of late years, but there is still room for further 
progress. The carrying six inside, which is the 
usual complement, is detestable. The conducteur, 
answering to our guard, rides in the cabriolet ; 
while the vehicle is driven by a postillion, who ma- 
noeuvres his five horses, which are marshalled two 
at wheel and three leaders abreast, with admirable 
dexterity, riding on the near side wheel-horse. The 

2 b 2 



372 BEZIERS. [nov. 

horses seem to be trained with great care, and obey 
the word of command like a troop of soldiers. 

In Italy and France, the voice is much more used 
than the whip, in the government of horses ; indeed 
it is, I believe, with beasts as with men, — mild treat- 
ment will often reclaim tempers that kicks and blows 
would only tend to make more brutal and vicious. 

My companions in the diligence were all on the 
qui vive, for the carriage had been stopped and 
robbed two evenings before, by a single footpad. 
This fellow had practised a most ingenious strata- 
gem to effect his purpose. He manufactured ten 
men of straw, and drew them up in the road in 
battle array ; — then, having taken his post a little in 
advance, he ordered the diligence to stop ; threaten- 
ing, if the least resistance was offered, to call up his 
companions, and put all the passengers to death. 
In this manner he laid the whole party under con- 
tribution, amongst whom were two Spanish mer- 
chants, whose purses were heavily laden. 

10th. Beziers is situated on a commanding emi- 
nence, from whence there is a beautiful view of the 
river Orbe, and a rich and cultivated valley, for 
many miles. Its situation would have tempted me 
to make some stay, but the streets were so dirty, and 
the appearance of the people so miserable, that I 
despaired of finding a decent residence. 

There is a coche d'eau, which goes every day from 
Beziers at twelve o'clock, by the famous canal of 
Languedoc, to Toulouse. Finding that this pas- 
sage-boat would be four days in making the voyage, 
as the weather was very bad, I decided to continue 



1818.] CANAL OF LAXGUED0C. 373 

in the diligence. In fine weather the boat offers a 
pleasant and most economical mode of traversing 
this country. The fare of each day's passage is 30 
sous, and the universal price throughout France, re- 
gulated by law, for supper at the table d'hote and 
lodging, is three francs and a half; though an 
Englishman is generally charged as much again ; 
but if he travels by a public conveyance, he need 
never pay more than the above named sum. 

This canal was the work of Paul Riquet under 
the auspices of Louis XIV., and has been of more 
use to France than all his victories, and a more 
splendid monument of his glory than all his play- 
thing waterworks at Versailles. It connects the At- 
lantic and the Mediterranean ; near this town it is 
carried through a mountain by means of a tunnel, 
which, however common now, was an extraordinary 
enterprise then. In some places it is conveyed by 
aqueducts over bridges, under which other rivers 
pursue their course. 

In order to secure a supply of water in dry seasons 
a basin has been constructed at Ferreol, which is 
perhaps the most extraordinary part of the whole un- 
dertaking. This immense reservoir, built of granite, 
is an English mile in length, and about half that 
distance in breadth, and contains an area of 595 
acres — collecting the waters of the various springs 
that rise in the Black Mountain. 

The road from Beziers oifers little worthy of ob- 
servation. Languedoc is very different in reality 
from the charming pictures which Mrs. Radcliffe has 
drawn of it in her " Mysteries of Udolpho." 



374 ARRIVAL AT TOULOUSE. [NOV. 

The people have a miserable look, denoting poverty 
and wretchedness. Shoes and stockings are very ge- 
nerally dispensed with ; or if shoes are worn, it is 
the wooden sabot, which is a sad clumsy contrivance. 

Manure seems an article in great request in this 
province. Boys run after the diligence for a mile 
after changing horses, to catch the first fruits of 
exercise upon a full stomach ; and I observed that a 
handful of this precious commodity was a common 
stake set between two lads in playing at quoits. 

The country improves as you approach Toulouse ; 
a neatly painted cottage occasionally meets the eye, 
and something like an attention to comfort is ob- 
servable. After two nights and two days in the 
diligence, we arrived at Toulouse. I remember the 
time when the very idea of two days and two nights 
in a stage-coach, carrying six inside and full all the 
way, would have made me ill. But, travelling 
" brings us acquainted with strange bedfellows," and 
is the best receipt I know for curing a fine gentleman. 



1818.] 



CHAPTER XV. 

Toulouse — Jean Galas — Battle of Toulouse — French Politics — 
La Fontaine — Law of Elections — LE'cole Royale — French 
Cookery — French Cleanliness — Criminal Jurisprudence. 

November 12th. The first impression of Toulouse 
is favourable, though it has a deserted appearance. 
It has lost much of its consequence by the Revolu- 
tion, which has swept away its Parliament; grass 
now grows in some of the streets ; and the popula- 
tion, which was formerly as high as 80,000, is now 
not computed at more than 55,000. It is built of 
brick, and this gives it a warmer look than the cold 
white stone of Montpellier. The bold line of the 
Pyrenees forms a noble background to the view from 
the bridge, which is one of the chief ornaments of the 
town ; the Garonne being here above 800 feet wide . 

Established myself in a pleasant lodging in the 
Rue des Cordeliers, looking due south into a large 
garden. Two rooms — 30 francs per month. 

13th. Explored the town. In the great square 
is the capitol, containing the apartments in which 
the estates-general of Languedoc used to hold 
their sessions. There are two public libraries, 
one or other of which is open to the public every 
day, containing large and valuable collections of 
ancient and modern books in all languages, with 
every accommodation for reading. At Toulouse 
there is an University containing at least 1500 stu- 
dents, and there are daily lectures in chemistry, 



376 TOULOUSE JEAN CALAS. [NOV. 

botany, and all branches of natural philosophy ; and 
these, like the libraries, are thrown open to all who 
have an inclination to benefit by them gratis. These 
are resources which make Toulouse a more agreeable 
residence than most provincial towns ; but, a pro- 
vincial town is bad at best. If one must live in a 
town, it should be in a capital; — provincial politics 
and parish scandal are intolerably tiresome. 

The promenades here are extensive and pretty; 
though the beauty of these is sadly defiled by the 
abominably filthy habits of the people. But this is 
the case throughout France ; the streets and the public 
walks are scarcely passable, owing to the disgraceful 
and disgusting practices of a people, who set them- 
selves up as models of politeness and bienseance. 

14th to 18th. Rain. My neighbour in my lodg- 
ing-house is a fine old veteran of seventy-two, whose 
history would furnish the materials for a novel. He 
tells me he was present at the execution of poor 
Calas, in the square of St. George in this town. 

The successful efforts of Voltaire to establish his 
innocence, and to save his family from sharing his 
fate, have given notoriety to the tragic history of this 
venerable victim of bigotry and injustice, who, at the 
age of 65, was condemned to be broken alive on the 
wheel, for the supposed murder of his son, without 
a shadow of proof. It was urged against him, that 
he had conspired with the rest of his family to put 
his son to death, to prevent him from becoming a 
convert from the protestant to the catholic religion, 
as one of his brothers had become before him. The 
truth seems to have been, that the son, who was of a 
melancholy temperament, had hanged himself. 



ISIS.] BATTLE OF TOULOUSE. 377 

Poor Calas supported the agonies of his punish- 
ment, which lasted two hours, with the most patient 
resignation ; and while he calmly protested his own 
innocence, spoke with charity and forgiveness of his 
judges. 

Nor were the blows of the executioner all that he 
had to endure during these two dreadful hours ; for 
he was also subjected to the mental racking of a 
catholic priest, who was torturing him with exhorta- 
tions to confess his guilt. 

At last the signal was given to the executioner to 
inflict the coup de grace ; when the priest himself, 
convinced by the calm and steady denial of the 
dying father, addressed the surrounding populace in 
the following words, which seem to have been 
riveted in the memory of my old friend — " Voila 
Vame du juste qui s'envole." 

19th. Went over the scene of the battle of Tou- 
louse. Soult's position seems to have been admi- 
rably chosen, and as strong as nature and art could 
make it. The difficulty of ascertaining the truth 
upon any one point makes one doubt of all the 
details of history. The French, with their usual 
hardihood of assertion, would fain persuade you 
that the Duke of Wellington was informed of the 
events that had happened at Paris when he attacked 
Soult's position, and fought the battle of Toulouse ; 
but that he was anxious to gather one more wreath 
of laurel. Napoleon abdicated on the 4th of April, 
and the battle of Toulouse was fought on the 10th. 
It has however been clearly proved in this case, 
that the officers despatched from Paris to inform 



378 BATTLE OF TOULOUSE. [NOV. 

the Duke of Wellington of the revolution in the 
government were arrested and detained at Mont- 
auban by Bouvier Dumoulart, Prefect of the dis- 
trict; and they did not reach the Duke till the 
evening- of the 12th; — and hence this fruitless effu- 
sion of blood six days after the abdication of Napo- 
leon, which in fact put an end to the war. 

20th. I find I have committed a great mistake 
in coming to Toulouse. I ought to have returned 
to Italy from Chamberry ; for I see that a winter 
in France will be intolerable, after dear delightful 
Italy ; but it is now too late to correct this error — 
and so I must e'en make the best of it. The Eng- 
lish are regarded here with an evil eye, and it is 
not surprising that there should exist a soreness of 
spirit in this quarter, where the national vanity 
received so bitter an humiliation. I have heard my 
old neighbour describe the horror, indignation, 
astonishment, and shame, that he felt, on seeing an 
army of Englishmen profaning " the sacred terri- 
tory" and marching into Toulouse en maitres ; 
though history might have furnished him with suf- 
ficient examples of similar invasions to diminish his 
surprise ; — and even here, our Wellington was pur- 
suing the very track which our Black Prince had 
traversed as a conqueror before him. But a French- 
man reads no history that does not furnish gratifi- 
cation to his national vanity ; and to talk to him of 
any thing anterior to the reign of Louis XIV. is to 
talk of what he knows as little, as of what happened 
before the Deluge. 

Though the French cannot forget or forgive the 



1818.] TOULOUSE FRENCH POLITICS. 379 

battle of Toulouse, yet they speak in terms of the 
highest praise of the good conduct of individuals, 
and with admiration of the discipline of the army. 
It seems, that they had been so accustomed to asso- 
ciate war with plunder and contribution, that the 
<rood old-fashioned mode which the English have 
never forsaken, of softening as much as possible the 
evils of war by paying for the supplies they de- 
manded, struck them as something new and 
unheard of; — though I doubt whether this admi- 
ration be not generally accompanied with a suspi- 
cion of the motive, or a sneer at the folly of such 
conduct. " Few people," says Fielding, " think 
better of others than of themselves, nor do they 
really allow the existence of any virtue of which 
they perceive no traces in their own minds \ for 
which reason, it is next to impossible to persuade a 
rogue that you are an honest man ; nor would you 
ever succeed by the strongest evidence, was it not 
for the comfortable conclusion which the rogue 
draws, that he who proves himself honest proves 
himself a fool at the same time." And yet the 
French ought to have learned, if nations could 
learn any thing from experience — that honesty, in 
the end, is the best policy ; and that the policy of 
wisdom is, after all, the policy of virtue. 

21st. Napoleon is not in the south of France 
the idol of that blind adoration which the Italians 
still pay him. His character seems here to be very 
correctly appreciated, and every body is fully aware 
of the enormous evils which he inflicted upon 
France by his return from Elba. The king is de- 



380 TOULOUSE FRENCH TOLITICS. [NOV. 

nouncecl by the ultra-royalists as a Jacobin ; but 
the Jacobins do not recognise him as a true bro- 
ther ; still, I believe, he has the great mass of the 
people on his side. United with the Charte, he will 
always have the majority with him ; but then he 
must not use the Charte like an umbrella, which is 
only brought out in foul weather, to ward off the 
pelting storm ; for the people consider it equally 
necessary as a parasol, to shelter them in fair wea- 
ther from the scorching rays of royalty. If the 
king have not a greater majority now, it is because 
there are some who see, or fancy they see, in the 
first acts of his reign, a disposition to establish prin- 
ciples, tending to invalidate the very existence of 
the compact between king and people — which they 
were certainly justified in believing had been so- 
lemnly accepted as the terms of his restoration. 
Thus, his dating his reign from the death of Louis 
XVII., his abandonment of the national colour 
which he had himself worn as Monsieur in 1789, 
and his second restoration at the point of foreign 
bayonets, have raised a spirit against him which 
nothing but time, and the most prudent conduct on 
his part, can soften. 

Mr. Fox has pronounced, that of all revolutions a 
restoration is the worst. Generally speaking it must 
be so ; for the restored family, bred up in ancient 
prejudices, can seldom forget the power which they 
once enjoyed; and the people will be for ever sus- 
pecting them of forming designs to recover it, whe- 
ther they have such intentions or not. This want 
of good understanding between king and people 



1818.] TOULOUSE FRENCH POLITICS. 381 

must be greatly increased, when, as in France, the 
restoration has taken place by foreign interference ; 
and when the people must feel that they have 
sinned beyond the bounds of forgiveness. It is in- 
deed impossible, that there should be a cordial 
union between revolutionized France, and the legi- 
timate claims of the Bourbons. Who can expect 
that the King, or the Comte d'Artois, should divest 
themselves of all fraternal feelings ; or who can be 
surprised that the Duchess d'Angouleme should 
shudder with horror at the sight of the murderers 
of her father, and at the recollection of the suffer- 
ings of her brother and herself? On the other side, 
it is equally natural that the French people, ac- 
cording to the maxim which lays it down that we 
never forgive those whom we have injured, should 
entertain a strong prejudice against the Bourbon 
family. The leading feature in the national charac- 
ter is vanity; — now their national vanity has been 
humbled in the dust, and this humiliation is, unfor- 
tunately for the Bourbons, inseparably connected 
with their restoration. The feeling against them 
was so strong on their second restoration, that pro- 
posals, it is said, were made to the Allies, offering 
rather to receive the King of Saxony, or the Prince 
of Orange, or any other King that the Allies would 
have vouchsafed to give them. 

The throne of the Bourbons seems then to be 
placed upon a barrel of gunpowder ; nothing but 
consummate prudence can reconcile the people to 
their sway, and prevent a fatal explosion. 

It is a common notion, and the enemies of the 



3S2 TOULOUSE FRENCH POLITICS. [NOV. 

Bourbons are at the greatest pains to strengthen 
it, that the Comte d'Artois disapproves entirely of 
the system of the king ; and that he is determined 
to restore the ancient regime in church and state, 
and to be aid Ccesar out nullus. It matters little 
whether this be true, or not ; the effect is the same 
— if the people can be persuaded to believe it. 
Accordingly, you hear a revolution talked of as a 
thing of course at the death of the king ; and there 
is no saying what might happen if he were to die 
immediately. But if he should continue to live a 
few years, the system which he has commenced 
will so have established itself; and the people will 
be so sensible of the advantages which they have 
obtained from the Charte, that the future king, be 
he who or what he may, will be compelled to pursue 
the same course, and will be without the power, 
whatever his inclination may be, to disturb the 
order of the machine of government, or endanger 
the tranquillity of the nation. 

22nd. Attended the church of the French Pro- 
testants. Heard a most excellent sermon, on the 
text — " Je laverai mes mains dans V 'innocence , et 
je m'approcherai a ton autel, o Eternel" The 
service consisted of a lesson from the Old Testa- 
ment, a few prayers, a good deal of psalmody, and a 
sermon which was preached memoriter. But in the 
prayers, and the sermon, there was a little too much 
onction for my taste. The priest pitched his voice 
in a recitative key, which must become tiresome in 
a long service. 

The congregation was numerous \ each person 



ISIS.] TOULOUSE LA FONTAINE. 3S3 

had a chair ; and there was no kneeling down. The 
church was cold, and the men wore their hats with- 
out ceremony. 

23d. I am pleased to hear, in attending the lec- 
tures in chemistry and experimental philosophy, the 
constant mention of English names, and English 
improvements, and discoveries, with the highest eu- 
logiums upon those of our countrymen, from Xew- 
ton downwards, who have advanced the progress of 
knowledge. In the library to-day I discovered an 
iEschylus and Euripides, which had belonged to 
Racine, with marginal notes in his own hand- 
writing ; but the notes were rather curious than 
valuable. 

In the evening to the theatre ; which is newly 
built and very handsome. Le parti de Chasse cle 
Henri IV. was well acted. The air of Vive Henri 
Quatre, which was introduced in the supper scene, 
was very feebly applauded. 

24th to 30th. Confined at home by severe in- 
disposition. — Amused myself with La Fontaine. 
Charming style ; — " He seems to produce without 
labour, what no labour could improve." This fa- 
cility of production is essential to poetry, and per- 
haps gave rise to the maxim — Poeta nascitur ; for 
if there be any appearance of effort or labour — if the 
numbers come from the brains like bird-lime from 
frieze — the whole charm is destroyed. Pcetry has 
been well defined to be 

a Thoughts that voluntary move 
Harmonious numbers.*' 

This definition is well enough as far as it gees ; 



3S4 TOULOUSE LA FONTAINE. [NOV. 

but to thoughts should also perhaps be added feel- 
ings, for brains.alone without heart will never make 
a poet. For example, Pope, with all the requisite 
qualities of mind, wanted the deep and fervid feel- 
ings which are necessary to the perfection of the 
poetical character ; without which, the poet can 
never ascend the brightest heaven of invention. 
The character of his poetry may be well illustrated 
by one of his own lines. It 

" Plays round the head but comes not near the heart/' 

He delights us by the fertility of his fancy, the 
elegance of his imagination, the point and playful- 
ness of his wit, the keen discrimination of his satire, 
and the moral good sense of his reasoning ; but he 
is seldom pathetic, and never sublime. If Eloisa to 
Abelard be an exception to this observation, it is a 
solitary one — and exceptio probat reguiam ; and 
even in that poem the sentiment seems rather to be 
adopted, than to be the genuine offspring of the 
poet's heart. 

What that soul of feeling is, that poetical verve, 
by which alone the poet can rise to sublimity, and 
which Pope wanted, will be understood at once, by 
comparing his ode on music with Dryden's divine 
effusion on the same subject. 

His merit even in versification seems to have been 
over-rated. Pope may perhaps be said to have done 
for verses, what Arkwright did for stockings, by the 
invention of a sort of mechanical process in their 
composition. His couplets are as regular, as if they 
had been made with the unerring precision of a 



ISIS.] TOULOUSE LAW OF ELECTION'S. 335 

spinning-jenny ; — and, indeed,* in speaking of his 
own talent, he himself makes use of a similar illus- 
tration ; 

u If every wheel of that unwearied mill 

That turn'd ten thousand verses now stand still !" 

The effect of this has been to supersede the neces- 
sity of much skill in the individual workman ; and 
accordingly, we see every day how easy it is to imi- 
tate the versification of Pope — for the mechanism 
was too simple to elude discovery ; but where shall 
we look for the freedom and variety of Dryden ? 

But to return to La Fontaine ; — what can be 
more affecting than his tale of the " Tivo Pigeons" ? 
It breathes the very soul of tenderness ; and there 
are throughout his writings touches of pathos and 
sensibility that will rarely be found in French poetry. 
What heart there is in the lines beginning with 
Qu'un ami veritable est une douce chose ! 

And his love of rural retreat is expressed with almost 
the force and feeling of Cowper : — 

u Solitude ou je trouve une douceur secrete 

Lieux que j'aimai toujours, ne pourrai-je jamais 

Loin du monde et du bruit, gouter l'ombre et le frais ? 

Oh ! qui m'arretera dans vos sombres asiles ?" fyc. fyc. 

December 1st. Now that the Congress has broken 
up, and the Allied troops are withdrawn, the atten- 
tion of all parties is directed to the meeting of the 
Chambers. The Upper Chamber consists of 150 
Peers; the Chamber of Deputies of 250 Represen- 
tatives, one-fifth of which is dissolved every year. 
The qualification for a deputy is the payment of 

2 c 



386 TOULOUSE LAW OF ELECTIONS. [DEC. 

direct taxes to the amount of 1,000 francs per an- 
num ; and it is also required that he should be 40 
years of age. The qualification of an elector is the 
annual payment of taxes to the amount of 300 
francs, and the full age of 30 years. And yet this 
is the new law of elections which the ultra royalists 
have denounced as being too democratical ! 

The chamber, which was dissolved by the king in 
1815 for its ultra royalism, had been elected under 
the imperial system of electoral colleges ; — the 
people electing in the first instance the electors, and 
the electors then nominating the representatives. 
The abuses which had crept into this system so 
utterly unfitted for its purpose — for it seems abso- 
lutely essential to a popular assembly that it should 
emanate immediately from the people — threw the 
whole power of election into the hands of the go- 
vernment ; but it is to this system that the Ultras 
wish to return, for the result of the late elections 
has been very much in favour of the liberal party. 
That this should have been the case is sufficiently 
extraordinary, if we consider the very limited num- 
ber of the whole body of electors in France, which 
is said not to exceed 100,000 ; — a number so small, 
that it might be supposed — from the experience of 
what happens in England where the right of suf- 
frage extends so much more widely — the influence 
of power and patronage would have been brought to 
bear against it with overpowering success. Though 
the popular spirit of the electors may be partly ex- 
plained from the infancy of their institutions, which 
corruption has scarcely yet had time to contaminate ; 



1818.] TOULOUSE RECRUITING. 387 

yet perhaps the real secret of their conduct may be 
found in their mode of voting by ballot. It is true 
that where the voting is secret, bribery may continue 
to be carried on, to a certain extent, by the reliance 
which will always be placed in the performance of 
promises ; but the more pernicious influence of inti- 
midation is effectually annihilated. It is this voting 
by ballot, indeed, which is the only saving virtue in 
the French law of elections, and to which they ought 
to cling as the sheet anchor of their liberties ; for, 
without this, a system which vests the right of 
electing deputies for a nation of thirty millions in so 
small a body as 100,000 electors, can afford no se- 
curity for a real representation of the people. 

The other objects of contention between the 
Ultimas and the Liber aux are the laws of recruiting", 
public instruction, and the appointment of mayors. 

The law of recruiting has been passed to continue 
the conscription ; but it must be confessed that it 
is no longer the same terrible warrant of death and 
destruction which formerly bore that name. On 
the restoration of the king an attempt was made, 
but made in vain, to fill up the ranks of the army 
by voluntary enlistment. It was decided that 
France must have an army, and the present law 
was passed. This law subjects all the male popu- 
lation, who shall have attained their twentieth year, 
to the operation of the conscription. But it limits 
the period of their service to five years, when they 
have a right to their discharge ; and it throws open 
to the lowest ranks the hope of advancement. . The 
equality of this law, in the obligation to serve and 

2 c 2 



388 TOULOUSE MAYORS THEATRE. [DEC. 

the right to promotion, is very distasteful to the 
Ultras, who can think only of the glorious privileges 
which the Nobles enjoyed in the army of the ancient 
regime. 

With respect to public instruction, the Ultras wish 
to return to the old system of Freres Chretiens ; 
while the Liberaux patronise the flnseignement 
mutuel, or system of Bell and Lancaster. 

The crown at present appoints the Mayors. The 
Libtraux would wish to introduce the systeme muni- 
cipal, by which the people would elect their own 
Mayors. 

There is a very general cry also against the ex- 
travagant emoluments of the Prefets, who are the 
creation of the Consular government. This officer 
is the head of his department, and is in himself what 
the Lord Lieutenant and the Sheriff are in our 
counties. The Prefets were of great use to Buona- 
parte in oiling the wheels of despotism, and their 
salaries were in proportion to their utility. The 
Prefecture of Toulouse is said to be worth 40,000 
francs per annum. 

Went in the evening to the theatre. The play 
was Tur caret, an admired comedy of Le Sage ; — 
but it is a comedy of the old school, and the bags 
and swords of the ancient bon-ton will not make the 
modern canaille of the theatre look like gentlemen. 
I am surprised to see the waiting-maids in the 
French comedy as well or perhaps better dressed than 
their mistresses. " This is o'erdoing termagant." 

2nd. Went over Uecole royale de Toulouse. The 
establishment consists of the Proviseur, who is the 



1818.] toulouse — l'ecole royale. 389 

Chef de la Maison ; the Censem\ who is second in 
authority ; eleven professors of Latin ; three of 
mathematics ; one of Latin and French literature ; 
one of natural history ; one of natural and experi- 
mental philosophy ; one of history ; and seven 
Mditres d? etude or assistant masters. V Aumonier^ 
with a long train of assistants, tradesmen, and ser- 
vants, from the surgeon to the shoeblack — complete 
the establishment. 

The whole number ofeleves is 400. Those within 
the walls amount to 160. The terms of the school 
are 650 francs per annum — about 271. For this 
the boy is lodged and fed in sickness and in health, 
clothed, and instructed in all that the above-named 
professors can teach him. The dress is a uniform 
of dark blue. Each boy has a small bed-cell to 
himself by night ; and a desk in the school-room by 
day. Their breakfast is bread and water; dinner — 
bread, soup, meat, and wine ; — supper — bread, cold 
meat, and wine ; — bread always a discretion. 

Nine hours per day are devoted to application. 
There are two months of vacation — September and 
October. With the exception of this vacation, the 
boys are kept under lock and key during the whole 
year /within the walls of the college, beyond which 
they cannot stir without express permission. Their 
play-ground is within the walls, and to break these 
bounds without leave would be punished by expul- 
sion. The internal discipline is conducted without 
having recourse to that brutal and degrading punish- 
ment, which, to the common disgrace of those that 
inflict and those who receive it, is still practised upon 



390 TOULOUSE L'ECOLE ROVALE. [dec. 

lads of all ages in the public schools of England. 
There is a sense of self-respect in every rational 
being, that revolts at the insult of being subjected to 
blows ; and this sense is recognised and encouraged 
in the French schools, where no sort of corporal 
punishment is allowed ; nor do I believe it is ever 
necessary — except perhaps in early childhood, be- 
fore the rational faculty has began to develope itself. 
But blows present so easy a mode of carrying on the 
business of school-government, that it is not won- 
derful schoolmasters should be desirous to retain 
their birchen sceptre, in defiance of decency and 
common sense. But it is surprising, when the 
systems of Pestalozzi and others have been explained 
to all Europe, that the public opinion of England 
should not have operated some change in this, as well 
as in some other particulars of school government. 

The common means in the hands of the Professors 
of Toulouse for maintaining order are impositions of 
tasks ; pain-sec, i. e. bread and water ; and joeni- 
tence, which is confinement to the school-room under 
the surveillance of a Maitre d* Etude. Solitary im- 
prisonment, the heaviest of their punishments, cannot 
be inflicted without the sanction of the Proviseur, or 
the Censeur. Some disorders have lately broken out 
in many of the French schools, but these seem to 
have arisen from temporary causes. Party-spirit, 
which has so convulsed the political world, has not 
been entirely shut out of schools ; where Bourbon 
and Buonaparte have been words of discord, and the 
question Qui vive ? has given rise to many a juvenile 
battle. Dame Religion too, who is seldom idle when 



1818.] TOULOUSE FRENCH COOKERY. 391 

discord is abroad, has not been without her share in 
these disturbances, some of which have originated in 
the jealousies between Catholic and Protestant. 

3rd. Toulouse is the land of cheap living, and 
all sorts of provisions are excellent of their kind. 
Bread is at two-pence a pound; — wine, that is, the 
tin du pays, of very good quality, four-pence a 
bottle ; — meat from two-pence to three-pence. The 
poultry is very fine ; you may buy a good turkey for 
3s. 6d. ; — a capon for Is. 9d. ; — a fowl for a shilling ; 
— and a goose for 2s. 6d. Servants' wages are also 
very low ; — I hire the attendance of a female servant 
to officiate as bed-maker, at half-a-crown per month. 

They have a custom here of fostering a liver com- 
plaint in their geese, which encourages its growth to 
the enormous weight of some pounds ; and this dis- 
eased viscus is considered a great delicacy. You 
get an excellent dinner at the table d'hote of either 
of the hotels, of two courses, dessert and wine, a dis- 
cretion, for 2s. 6d. I have established myself en 
pension with a family next door ; where I have my 
breakfast, dinner, wine, cafe, and liqueur, for 80 
francs a month. 

In comparing French and English cookery, I 
think the balance is greatly in favour of the former. 
We may beat them in a few dishes, but they excel 
us in fifty. We have the advantage in soup — though 
they are fond of saying that our soups are nothing 
but hot water and pepper; and w r e beat them in 
fish, because most fish cannot be dressed too simply. 
But they have an infinity of good things ; and if 
happiness consisted in good-eating, I should recom- 



392 TOULOUSE FRENCH COOKERY. [DEC. 

mend a man to live in France. It is quite a mis- 
take to suppose that roast beef is confined to Old 
England, though the French do not present it in 
such enormous masses as we do. Nor indeed is 
there any great treat in sitting down to a huge limb 
hacked off its parent carcass, with an intimation, 
that " You see your dinner ;" — always excepting how- 
ever a haunch of venison, or a round of corned beef, 
which are two of those precious rnorceaux peculiar 
to England that constitute a dinner in themselves. 

When you laugh at a Frenchman for eating frogs, 
he retaliates upon you for breakfasting upon warm 
water and sugar. Nothing can be more incorrect 
than to suppose that the French live upon soup 
maigre ; — the lower orders indeed, I believe, are 
very temperate, and seldom taste meat ; but, amongst 
the higher classes, one might almost parody one of 
our national maxims, and say — that one Frenchman 
would out-eat three Englishmen. 

Their dejeuner a la four chette, when well served up, 
is,, as they term it, superbe, magnijique ; and wants 
only the addition of tea to rival the excellence of a 
Scotch breakfast. 

In comparing the cookery of the two nations, it is 
the general excellence of the French that is so much 
beyond our own. The best cooks in the various 
countries in Europe are nearly the same, for they 
are formed more or less after the French model > but 
in France all are good, 

Man has been defined to be — a cooking, supersti- 
tious, self-killing animal. I know not whether the 
outward signs of these inward propensities have yet 



1318.] TOULOUSE FRENCH CLEANLINESS. 393 

been discovered, in cranial protuberances peculiar 
to the human head; but when they are, the organ 
of superstition will probably be found to predomi- 
nate in the Spanish, as that of suicide may perhaps 
prevail in the English, whilst, if there be any truth 
in craniology, the organ of cookery must be the 
leading feature of the French skull. 

So much for cookery. With respect to cleanli- 
ness, — the balance here will incline very much in 
favour of England ; though in many particulars the 
observances of the French evince a greater niceness 
of feeling than our own. A napkin is as indispen- 
sable to a Frenchman at dinner, as a knife or fork. 
In the lowest inn you will always find this luxury, 
and, though it may be coarse, it is always clean ; nor 
is it confined to the parlour — all ranks must have 
their napkin, and all classes are equally nice in the 
use of a separate drinking glass. The silver fork 
too is almost universal, but their knives arevillanous; 
and the use which even the ladies make of their 
sharp points, in performing the office of a toothpick, 
is worse. 

The ablutions of the bath are perhaps more gene- 
rally practised in France than in England; though 
you seldom see a Frenchman with his face cleanly 
shaved, or his hands well washed. With regard to 
the ladies of the two nations — their pretensions to 
superiority in this respect were submitted to an 
emigre bishop, as an experienced judge of both coun- 
tries, who answered — " Les Anglais es sont plus pro- 
pres aux yeux des hommes — et les Franpaises aux 
yeux de Dieu /" 



394 TOULOUSE FRENCH CLEANLINESS. [DEC. 

But though in some few instances the French 
seem to show a more delicate sense of personal com- 
fort than ourselves, yet in the general estimate they 
will be found far behind us. Their houses would 
shock our neat and tidy house-wives ; and their at- 
tached and detached offices are too filthy for descrip- 
tion. In their persons too — though the bath may 
be used, the tooth and nail brush seem to be for- 
gotten ; and they are always either smart or slovenly, 
as you see them in their evening dress, or in their 
morning dishabille. 

Lastly ; some of their habits must be condemned 
as shockingly offensive , — what shall we say of the 
spitting about the floor, which is the common prac- 
tice of women as well as men, at all times and 
seasons, not only in domestic life, but also upon the 
stage, in the characters of heroes and heroines even 
in high imperial tragedy? — to say nothing of the 
manoeuvres of a French pocket-handkerchief — called 
expressively by Young " a flag of abomination" — 
which would disgust the feelings of any Englishman, 
without supposing him a fastidious eleve of Lord 
Chesterfield. 

In conversation too, though there is much of what 
may be called moral delicacy, which is shown in 
little attentions to oblige, and a nice tact in avoiding 
whatever can give offence, yet there seems a total 
want of physical delicacy on the part of the French. 

This will perhaps explain what has been much re- 
marked upon by travellers ; — that the French rarely 
smile at the blunders of foreigners. An Englishman 
feels his muscles irresistibly moved when a foreigner 



1818.] TOULOUSE THEATRE. 395 

unwittingly touches in conversation upon forbidden 
ground ; — but here, where there is scarcely any for- 
bidden ground, similar mistakes cannot of course 
have the same effect. 

Feast of Sainte Barbe ; — military fete. The regi- 
ments of artillery had a feast, and the soldiers in the 
evening cried Vive PEmpereur, in the great square. 
They were drunk, to be sure ; — but in vino Veritas. 
The name of Napoleon is made to stand for any 
thing. In the mouths of the army it is only another 
word for military government and a military chief, 
without much individual attachment to him ; and in 
politics, if the cry of Vive Buonaparte have any in- 
fluence, it can only be because it is considered as 
the badge of the Revolution, and the changes which 
the Revolution has effected ; in opposition to the 
powers and privileges of the ancien regime. 

5th. The more I see of France and Frenchmen, 
the more I am struck with the serious and sombre 
complexion of their manners, so different from the 
pictures of other times, Nothing can be more dull 
than their theatre ; that is, than the theatre of Tou- 
louse. There seems to be no sympathy of feeling, 
no connecting link, between the audience and the 
actors. The laughter of the scene produces no cor- 
respondent emotion in the house. There is no ap- 
plause, and scarcely any attention ; — the spectators 
sit by in sullen silence. But it must be owned that 
the actors are not the best in the world. 

The young students of the University, with little 
respect to the well-behaved part of the audience, 
throw bouquets of flowers on the stage to their fa- 
vourite actresses. 



395 TOULOUSE CRIMINAL PROCEDURE. [DEC. 

6th. The dulness of the theatre has been ex- 
plained to me. The audience is constantly made 
up of the same persons, and they are of course too 
familiar with the pieces and the actors to take much 
interest either in the one or the other. 

In the provincial towns of France every body 
subscribes to the theatre. The spectacle is absolutely 
necessary to fill up the evening of a Frenchman ; 
for neither conviviality nor social domestic parties 
are the fashion of the country. The theatre there- 
fore is open every night, without excepting Sunday ; 
on which day, indeed, it is most crowded. Economy 
is the object of many of those who attend ; for it is 
cheaper to subscribe, and pass the evening from 
dinner till bed-time at the play, than to burn fire 
and candle at home. 

The subscription, to the military who are quar- 
tered here, is one day's pay per month ; — this was a 
regulation introduced by Napoleon. The students 
are admitted for eleven francs, and all other persons 
for fifteen francs per month. For this you have a 
free admission to all parts of the house. 

The actors seem to be tolerably well paid, for a 
provincial theatre. There are none who have less 
than 1,200 francs per annum, and the leading actors 
have as much as 8,000 francs. But then the pre- 
miers roles in France are saddled with the expense 
of finding their own dresses. 

23rd. Attended the assizes. A prisoner was 
brought up for horse-stealing. The president of the 
court and three other judges were present, dressed 
in robes of scarlet; but without any flowing horse- 



ISIS.] TOULOUSE CRIMINAL PROCEDURE. 397 

hair on their heads. The Procureur General, or 
public accuser on the part of the crown, in the 
same costume, sat at the same table with the judges, 
so close to the jury, that he was continually com- 
municating with them in an under tone, and even 
during the defence he from time to time suggested 
something aside to them, as it seemed, to do away 
the impression of what was urged in the prisoner's 
favour. The jury consisted of the principal inha- 
bitants of Toulouse, and of the professors of the uni- 
versity. The whole court seemed to consider them- 
selves as pitted against the poor devil at the bar. 
The president acted throughout as counsel against 
him ; and even his manner, in the frequent cross- 
examination to which he made the prisoner submit, 
was what in England would be called unfeeling 
and indecent. Though the charge involved so se- 
rious a punishment, the judges and Monsieur le 
Procureur seemed to think it a very facetious cir- 
cumstance, and laughed heartily — when the culprit 
aided his own conviction by some ill-considered 
answer. 

Even the jury and the spectators seemed to be 
without any feelings of sympathy for the accused, 
and the address of his counsel was not listened to 
with a decent attention by any body ; — though it 
ought to be added in their excuse, that the address 
was a villanously stupid one. Still it was impossible 
not to be shocked at the apparent want of fair play 
in the whole procedure. 

The spirit of equality, which pervades every thing 
in France since the revolution, seems to have found 



39S TOULOUSE CRIMINAL PROCEDURE. [DEC. 

its way into the courts of Justice in some of their 
observances; and in these instances, at least, we 
cannot condemn its influence. The prisoner and 
the witnesses are accommodated with seats, not as 
matter of favour, hut as matter of right ; and the 
witnesses give their evidence sitting. This is surely 
nothing more than just ; it is a sufficient evil that 
a man, without any fault of his own, should be 
liable to the inconvenience of attending as a wit- 
ness, without being subjected to the additional 
punishment of standing up in a witness-box, during 
an examination of as many hours as it may please 
the counsel to inflict upon him. 

The witness is not sworn upon the Bible ; but he 
holds up his hand, and to the charge of the presi- 
dent — Vous jurez, sans haine, et sans crainte, de 
dire la verite, toute la verite, et rien que la verite — 
he answers — Je le jure. 

No evidence was taken down ; and the summing 
up of the judge was only a recapitulation of the 
proofs against the prisoner. 

The jury retire to deliberate, and bring in their 
verdict in writing. 

The prisoner was found guilty, and sentenced to 
five years' imprisonment. 

29th. Assizes again. — A very interesting trial of 
a man for shooting at another, with an intent to kill 
him. Before the commencement of a trial the names 
of the witnesses are called over; and they are then 
sent out of court, that one may not hear the evi- 
dence of the other. The President opened the case 
to the jury. The proof was defective ; at least, it 



ISIS.] TOULOUSE CRIMINAL PROCEDURE. 399 

was a very nice case as to the identity of the man ; 
and yet one of the questions of the Procureur 
General to the prisoner, in a cross-examination in 
aid of the proof against him, was — Are you pos- 
sessed of a gun ? ! ! ! No evidence was taken 
down. When the evidence closed, the Procureur 
General spoke in support of the prosecution; the 
prisoner's counsel then spoke in his defence, and 
lastly the President summed up, remarking, in this 
instance, upon what had been advanced on both 
sides ; but still it was the speech of an advocate 
against the prisoner, in which character the French 
judge seems to consider himself. In the course of 
this trial, the President examined the witnesses for 
the prosecution, as to the character of the prisoner, 
in this sort of way : — 

" Do you know any thing of the prisoner's cha- 
racter ?" 

" Have you ever heard any thing against him?" 

(C Do you think it likely from what you know of 
him, that he would commit the crime with which 
he is charged?" 

In another trial, the judge, in his opening of the 
case, in order to influence the jury against the pri- 
soner, commenced his speech by telling them — that 
the same culprit had very lately appeared at the 
bar, and had been acquitted by the jury on the 
score of his youth, as he was only one day beyond 
the age which made him liable to legal penalty ; 
and that, in addition to this lenity, the jury had 
made a subscription for him, in order that he might 



400 TOULOUSE CRIMINAL PROCEDURE, [DEC. 1818. 

have something with which to begin the world 
again. This was the opening statement of the 
judge, unsupported by a tittle of evidence. 

So much for the criminal jurisprudence of the 
French ; of the very first principles of which they 
seem to be utterly ignorant. 

The golden maxim of the English law, which 
presumes that every man is innocent till it has been 
proved that he is guilty, and which shields the 
accused from the obligation of replying to any 
question lest he should criminate himself, has no 
influence in their criminal procedure. The prisoner, 
though not absolutely stretched upon the rack, is 
subjected to the terrible screw of cross-examination; 
and a most powerful engine it is for extracting the 
truth. But it may sometimes confound the inno- 
cent, as well as convict the guilty. If indeed a 
prisoner be really innocent, and if he have coolness 
and good sense enough to adhere strictly to the 
truth, he may have nothing to fear from the legal 
inquisition of the French — which is certainly well 
adapted for unravelling the intricacies of a compli- 
cated case. But as it is surely better that many 
guilty should escape rather than one innocent man 
should suffer, the spirit of the Euglish system is 
infinitely preferable, in spite of the facilities it 
affords to the clever rascal of escaping from justice. 



1819.] 401 



CHAPTER XVI. 

New Year's Day — Party Spirit — Mass for Louis XVI. — Mis- 
sionaries — Law of Elections — Profession of a Novice — 
Racine — French Drama — Departure from Toulouse. 

January 1st, 1819. The weather for the last ten 
days lias been bitterly cold ; the thermometer has 
been below the freezing point, with snow, and sleet, 
and fog. This is a day of great bustle in France. 
All the equipages in Toulouse are rattling about, 
leaving cards of congratulation ; for it would be a 
breach of politeness amongst acquaintance not to 
exchange visits on this day. — New year's gifts seem 
more in vogue in France than in England. 

16th. The agitation of the public mind, produced 
by the late reports of changes in the ministry, seems 
at last to be tranquillized by the appointment of 
M. de Cazes and his friends. The heat and irrita- 
tion produced here by the rumour of the appoint- 
ment of an ultra-royalist ministry, which was be- 
lieved for four-and-twenty hours, was excessive. 
The ultra-royalist party awaited the arrival of the 
next courier with the most intense anxiety ; and if 
it had brought a confirmation of their hopes, there 
is no saying what outrages and excesses might not 
have been committed. The ultra-royalist party in 
the south of France is characterized by the spirit 
which massacred the protestants at Xismes ; the 
green cockade is its ensign, and this party is more 

2b 



402 TOULOUSE PARTY SPIRIT/ [jAN. 

royalist than the king himself, who is regarded by 
them as an apostate from the old principles of the 
ancient regime. These then say, as the friends of our 
second Charles said, that Louis has interpreted the 
oubli and pardon of his brother's dying injunctions, 
into an act of amnesty to his enemies, and an act of 
oblivion of his friends. On the other hand, the 
anxiety of those who have benefited by the Revolu- 
tion — that is, the great mass of the people — was 
equally evident ; for they are taught to regard the 
appointment of an ultra-royalist ministry as syno- 
nymous with a re-establishment of the tithes of the 
clergy, and the feudal rights of the seigneur, and 
a resumption of all the property which has been 
purchased under edicts of confiscation. 

This last is the tenderest point of all ; and it is 
certainly a hard case, that a man who was obliged 
either to fly his country or lose his head, should upon 
his return find his estate in the possession of one of 
his own servants, who perhaps purchased it for 
almost nothing during the troubles of the Revolution. 
But this, it is to be feared, is one of those instances 
of injustice, which, by being committed and defended 
by numbers, is placed beyond the reach of punish- 
ment ; for it is impossible to " indict a whole nation." 
The sentence of Fiat juslitia would be accompanied 
with a popular convulsion, equivalent to the mat 
cesium of the original maxim ; which however true 
in morals, will not always hold good in politics, of 
which expediency is the basis : and in which, I 
believe, we must be contented with what is practi- 
cable when we cannot attain what is desirable. 



1819.] TOULOUSE MASS FOR LOUIS XVI. 403 

18th. Le Prefers ball. The Prefect, who is 
considered, like our Lord Lieutenant, as the repre- 
sentative of the sovereign in the department over 
which he presides, keeps up a certain state, and 
amongst other entertainments gives a ball every 
Monday. The ball was but a shabby business ; — 
three fiddlers, and no supper. Cotillions and quad- 
rilles are so soon over, and the ladies are pledged so 
many deep, that every French beau is armed with 
his pencil and tablets to record his engagements, 
which he claims by presenting his partner with a 
bouquet of flowers. There is a very striking con- 
trast between the fashion of the English and French 
ladies' dress, in disposing the drapery of the neck; 
and the advantage is for once so much on the side 
of the latter, in decorum and propriety, that I am 
surprised our countrywomen are not shamed into an 
imitation of it. 

21st. Solemn service at the cathedral for the 
repose of the soul of Louis XVI. — The Prefect and 
the municipality, and the whole body of the pro- 
fessors of the university, attended this mourning 
ceremonial in grand costume. The church was hung 
with black, and the funeral anthem was beautiful. 

The king's will was read from the pulpit ; but, as 
far as it is possible to judge of the tone and senti- 
ment of a public assembly, it did not appear to me 
that the impression produced upon the multitude 
was such as the authors of the ceremony must have 
contemplated. It might have been different at the 
first celebration of the anniversary of his murder; 
and perhaps it would have been better to have 

2 d 2 



404 TOULOUSE THEATRE. [jAN. 

limited the mourning to one single occasion ; for 
such feelings must in their nature be transient, and 
in time pass away altogether. What, for instance, 
can be more ridiculous than the pretended mournful 
observance of the 30th of January in England ? 
By the way, it is rather a singular coincidence that 
January was the month fatal alike to Louis and 
Charles, as May was the common month of the 
restoration of their successors ; — it will be for the 
Comte d 5 Artois to take care that the parallel between 
the families does not continue farther. 

22nd. In the evening to the theatre. The play 
was Edouard en Ecosse ; founded on the adventures 
of the Pretender in England, the work of M. Duval, 
who is fond of dramatising English story. The 
part of Charles Edward was admirably played by 
Beauchamp. His face and appearance, when he 
first comes in, pale and worn out with fatigue, pre- 
sented a striking resemblance of Napoleon. The 
political allusions, with which the play abounds, 
were eagerly seized throughout, and applied to the 
Ex-Emperor. — " Je n^ai fait que des ingrats" was 
long and loudly applauded. In the last act of the 
play the air of " God save the King" was incident- 
ally introduced ; which afforded the audience an 
opportunity of manifesting their feeling towards 
England, which they did not neglect — and an uni- 
versal hiss broke out. A pantomime followed, but a 
very faint imitation of the inimitable entertainment 
which is called by that name in England. The first 
dancer is called Harlequin, without his wand or his 
tricks ; the first female dancer is Columbine ; and 



1S19.] TOULOUSE MISSIONARIES. 405 

the unfortunate Pantaloon, in addition to his own 
part, is Clown also ; so that besides the kicks on the 
breeches which he receives in quality of the first 
character, he has also to endure the slaps of the face 
which fall to the lot of the second. His mock dance 
was excellent ; and his animated sack, for he jumps 
into a sack and displays wonderful locomotive powers 
therein, was worthy of Grimaldi himself. 

February 1st. It is a subject of great complaint 
that the time of the carnival should have been 
selected by the missionaries, who have lately made 
their appearance at Toulouse, for the period of their 
visit; as their arrival and preaching have cast a 
gloom over the usual festivities of this season of the 
year. There is a sort of mystery in the institution 
and appointment of these peripatetic preachers, 
w r ho traverse France from one end to the other, as 
if there were no local clergy to provide for the reli- 
gious instruction of their flocks. They preach twice 
a day, at the principal churches in the town ; and 
in order that this may not interfere with the labour- 
ing pursuits of the lower classes, the morning hour 
is as early as five, and the evening as late as six 
o'clock. There seems to be a great craving after 
religion at present, as if there were a re-action after 
the long reign of infidelity during the Revolution. 
The churches are filled long before the service begins, 
and the receipts at the rate of three sous a chair will 
amount to a considerable sum, if the zeal of the 
congregations should continue. 

The missionaries are represented in the most 
opposite colours, by the two parties of the state \ if 



406 TOULOUSE MISSIONARIES. [FEB. 

you listen to the royalists, they work nothing but 
good, and only excite the jealousy of the opposite 
party, because it is feared that they will restore the 
tone of the public mind, and bring back the people 
to " fear God and honour the king ;" while the 
liberal party represents them as the preachers of 
fanaticism, and the promoters of domestic dissen- 
sion. For myself I must say, that I have attended 
the missionary who preaches at the cathedral, and 
have heard the best and purest precepts of Christi- 
anity enforced by very extraordinary eloquence ; 
but a friend has told me that he heard, at one of the 
minor churches, a sermon on the doctrine of tran- 
substantiation, in which the missionary preacher 
related the following story in confirmation of his 
doctrine. " There was a woman," said he, " who 
being in want of a decent attire to go to communion, 
went to a Jew to hire a dress ; and the Jew would 
only consent to let it, upon condition that she would 
bring him back t a piece of the consecrated wafer. 
After much difficulty, his terms were granted. The 
Jew, as soon as he had got possession of the wafer, 
trampled it under his feet ; when, to his great sur- 
prise, he perceived drops of blood to issue from it. 
Astonished at this, he put it into a saucepan and 
boiled it upon the fire ;— when the surface of the 
water became covered with fat. This second miracle 
so wrought upon him, that he was convinced and 
converted, and forthwith became a Christian." 
If such is the mode of expounding the mysteries 
of Christianity, in the nineteenth century, it is no 
wonder that the enlightened part of the nation 



1819.] TOULOUSE LAW OF ELECTIONS. 407 

condemn missions, and refuse to listen to mis- 
sionaries. 

5th. In the evening to the theatre. M. Huet 
from the Opera Comique of Paris drew a fall house. 
He played Adolphe, and Jean cle Paris, in the 
originals, from which Matrimony and John of Paris 
have been translated ; but I thought him very tame 
and insipid after the delightfully spirited perform- 
ance of Elliston in the same parts ; — who is so 
happy in the combination of heart and feeling with 
vivacity and whim ; and inimitable in the manage- 
ment of dry humour and playful raillery. 

10th. The French seem to carry politics farther 
even than ourselves. Who ever heard in England of 
inquiring the politics of an actor ? Yet here, the 
arrival of M. Huet, who it seems is recognized as a 
staunch royalist, has been sufficient to throw the 
town of Nismes into a state of agitation. The royal- 
ist party made a point of attending the theatre to 
support their champion ; in the same party spirit 
which had been shown by the opposite faction upon 
a late visit of Talma, whose intimate friendship with 
the ex-Emperor is well known. A spark is sufficient 
to kindle the flame of civil war between parties com- 
posed of such inflammable materials, and nothing but 
the prudence of the police prevented an explosion. 

March 16th. The coup d'etat of creating fifty 
new peers has at last quieted the apprehension and 
anxiety which had been occasioned by the success 
of the Marquis Barthelemy's motion in the Chamber 
of Peers- The object of the motion was to consider 
the propriety of altering the law of elections ; and it 



408 TOULOUSE FRENCH REVOLUTION. [MARCH, 

was carried by a majority of thirty- four voices against 
the ministry. This new creation of peers, which 
amounts almost to a revolution in the government, 
ought to convince all parties of the king's sincerity 
and good faith, and of his determination to oppose by 
any means the overheated zeal of his own adherents. 
The friends of M. Barthelemy affect to consider the 
public alarm as unfounded and unreasonable, since 
his motion was confined to a mere consideration of 
the propriety of making an alteration in the law. 
But it is surely not surprising that a people just 
entering upon the enjoyment of political privileges 
should be tremblingly alive to any attempt to tamper 
with a law which they are taught to consider as the 
great security of their rights. How for example 
would the king feel, if a member of the Chamber of 
Deputies were to succeed in a motion for considering 
the propriety of making some alteration in the settle- 
ment of the crown ? There are certain fundamental 
points in all constitutions, which ought not, and 
cannot be made the subjects of debate, without dis- 
turbing the stability of the whole edifice. 

It is only necessary to consider what the French 
have gained by the Revolution, to sympathize with 
the alarm excited by any measure that seems to 
indicate a disposition to return to the principles of 
the ancient government. 

Liberty and equality was a cry peculiarly cal- 
culated to produce an effect in France ; and how- 
ever it might have been afterwards abused, its 
original import meant a liberation from the in- 
tolerable grievances of feudal oppression, and an 



1819.] TOULOUSE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 409 

abolition of the injurious privileges of the nobles ; — 
who not only possessed an exclusive claim to all the 
honours and emoluments of the army and the church, 
but were also exempt from taxation ; and, even in 
the article justice, were placed above the level of 
their inferiors — for there was one tribunal and one 
measure of justice for the high, and another for the 
low. 

The direct power of the monarch was the least 
evil of which the French had to complain, and the 
rule of a single despot, in the person of Napoleon, 
must have seemed light to those, who remembered 
all the grievances of the ancien regime ; — namely, 
the partial and oppressive imposts of the taille and 
the corvee ; and the capitaineries, by which a sort of 
free-warren was conferred over the lands of others, 
taking away the rights of the proprietors them- 
selves, and vesting the game of a whole district — 
with the power of preserving deer and wild boars — 
in any single Nimrod whom the king might appoint. 

Last, and worst of all, were the feudal claims, 
and oppressive expedients — for an account of which 
see Arthur Young — by which the Seigneur might 
extort money from his vassals. But these and all 
the other sufferings of the people seem to be for- 
gotten by all but themselves ; and nothing is now 
remembered of the French Revolution, but the 
crimes and excesses by which the cause of liberty 
was disgraced. 

This Revolution teaches indeed an awful lesson. 
But while we learn from it the dangers of popular 
excess, and the impossibility of effecting a beneficial 



410 TOULOUSE — CONVENT. [MARCH, 

reform by the agency of the mob, we shall derive 
but little profit from it if it do not also teach us the 
necessity of accommodating the institutions of go- 
vernment to the progress of information, so that 
they may be always kept in unison with public 
opinion. 

If such had been the conduct of the French 
government, we should never have heard of the 
French Revolution. The rulers who refuse to make 
those alterations which the progress of the age 
demands, seem to act as imprudently as the debtor 
who neglects to pay the interest of his debt. It is 
true he may delay paying any thing for a certain 
time, but in the mean time the arrears go on ac- 
cumulating at compound interest, and when the day 
of reckoning does come, as come it must sooner or 
later, it comes with a vengeance, and brings ruin 
along with it. Those who have the direction of the 
machine of government would do well to watch the 
signs of the times, and by a regular payment of the 
claims of society maintain a constant good under- 
standing between debtor and creditor ; — for this is 
the sort of relation in which the government and the 
people seem to stand towards each other. 

25th. The Annunciation. Attended the cere- 
mony of professing a novice, in the chapel of the 
Benedictine Convent. The victim was a young and 
pretty girl, who had been on the point of marriage, 
for which the preparations had been made, and the 
day fixed. The destined bride however suddenly 
changed her mind, without any assignable reason ; 
and, in spite of the entreaties of her friends, resolved 



1819.] TOULOUSE PROFESSION OF A NOVICE. 411 

to renounce the world ; and, according to the French 
phrase, epouser le bon Dieu. She was arrayed in a 
superb dress of satin, with a profusion of lace, and 
wore a wreath of flowers upon her head. 

The service was long and tedious. After receiving 
the communion, and hearing a sermon particularly 
addressed to her, which was dull and unfeeling 
beyond belief, the ceremony began. She was asked 
in the face of the congregation, whether it was from 
her own sincere and unbiased inclination that she 
sought the seclusion of a convent ; and having an- 
swered in the affirmative, the cierge and crucifix 
were delivered to her. She was then led out of the 
chapel by her two bridemaids, and re-appeared 
within the grate of the convent. Here her hair was 
cut off; and quitting her worldly dress and worldly 
ornaments, she was invested with the coarse uniform 
of the order to which she was to belong. The novice 
then gave the kiss of peace all round to the sisters 
of the convent, and the ceremony concluded. At 
the expiration of a year, she repeats her vows, and 
takes the black veil : it is then that the convent be- 
comes her tomb ; and being considered as dead to 
the world, she is wrapped in a black shroud, and the 
funeral service is performed over her. The father 
of the novice attended the ceremony, and seemed to 
be overwhelmed with affliction. It was a melan- 
choly scene ; but less affecting than it would have 
been, if the profession of vows were now, as in 
former times, an irrevocable sentence of perpetual 
seclusion. This is no longer the case ; for as the 
law at present stands, no vows are binding for more 



412 TOULOUSE — MISSIONARIES. [MARCH, 

than a year; so that if a nun, availing herself of the 
privilege of her sex, should think fit to change her 
mind, she may have her cage-door opened, and 
return to the world. 

27th. There was an intention of concluding the 
mission to Toulouse by a grand ceremony and pro- 
cession, in which the missionaries were to walk 
barefoot, and plant a cross in one of the squares of 
the town ; but it has been prevented by the inter- 
ference of the police, and postponed sine die. It is 
difficult to form a judgment of the general effects of 
these missions from the opposite representations of 
their friends and enemies. The only fact that has 
come under my own knowledge speaks in their 
favour. As we were sitting at dinner one day, the 
host of my pension was called out to speak to a 
young woman, who desired particularly to see him 
alone. Upon his return, he recounted his interview 
to us. It seems that the woman had formerly lived 
in his service, and the object of her visit was to con- 
fess to him sundry petty acts of theft, and to make 
him restitution of their amount. This, she said, she 
was led to do from the representations of one of the 
missionaries, to whom she had confessed, and who 
had convinced her that repentance and absolution 
were of no avail, unless founded upon sincere re- 
solutions of amendment ; and that the best pledge 
of future good conduct would be the atonement and 
reparation of past sins, as far as it could be done. 
My kind-hearted host forgave his contrite domestic, 
and she had all the merit of good intention, with- 
out making any pecuniary sacrifice. 



1819.] TOULOUSE RACINE. 413 

30th. Finished a course of Racine. The de- 
lineation of female characters seems to be his forte. 
Phedre, Hermione, Agrippine, and Clytemnestre, 
are, I think, master-pieces in their way. All the 
faults of Racine must be attributed to the taste of 
his age and nation ; and, considering the tight stays 
in which the tragic muse is confined upon the 
French stage, Racine has done wonders. His 
heroes, to be sure, whether taken from Greek or 
Roman story, are all Frenchmen. This is the com- 
mon fault of all the French tragic writers ; and 
it is exquisitely ridiculed by Grimm. " Le celebre 
Hogarth, connu par le genie et 1'esprit de ses com- 
positions, a ecrit un ouvrage sur le beau, rempli 
d'idees extraordinaires. On y voit entre autres une 
estampe ou un maitre de danse Fran<jais est vis- 
a-vis la belle statue d'Antinoiis ; il s'occupe a lui 
relever la tete, a lui effacer les epaules, a lui 
placer les bras et les jambes, a la transformer, en 
un mot, en petit maitre elegant et agreable : cette 
satire est aussi fine qu'originale. Je doute ce- 
pendant que notre celebre Marcel eut touche a la 
contenance d'Antinoiis ; mais mettez a la place 
d'Antinoiis la statue de Melpomene l'Athenienne, 
et nommez les maitres de danse Corneille et Racine, 
et le symbole ne s'ecartera pas trop de la verite." 

His heroines are less national, the reason of which 
perhaps may be, that there is less national distinction 
amongst women, who have, as Pope has said, " no cha- 
racters at all ; " a remark, which, though Pope meant 
it as a satire, needs not I think offend the sex ; on the 
contrary, it is perhaps the highest merit in a woman, 



414 TOULOUSE FRENCH DRAMA. [MARCH, 

that she is without those strongly-marked pecu- 
liarities which constitute what is called character in 
man ; — for in her, to be prominent is to be offen- 
sive ; and her most engaging qualities are of that 
unobtrusive kind, which belong rather to the sex 
than to the individual. 

Racine's women are the women of high life. We 
must not look for the charming effusions of natural 
feeling which Shakspeare has given, in Juliet, 
Imogen, Cordelia, and the divine Desdemona. Such 
characters as these the French poet had not the 
head to conceive ; nor, if he had, would a French 
audience have the heart to feel their beauty ; but 
Racine has given most powerful and affecting deli- 
neations of the frailties and passions of the factitious 
beings amongst whom his scene is laid. It is to the 
distresses of such beings that the sympathy of a 
French audience seems confined. It would appear 
as if there were only a royal road to their hearts, for 
the idea of a tragedie bonrgeoise is to them ridi- 
culous ; and not satisfied with confining tragedy to 
the great, they have also prescribed such rigorous 
rules of bienseance, that all the mighty play of the 
passions, which form the elements of tragedy, is 
limited in their expression by the arbitrary laws cf 
poetic diction, and the strict modes of politeness, as 
they happened to exist in the time of Louis XIV. 

Grimm in his Correspondence has pointed out 
with great discrimination the defects of French tra- 
gedy ; but a few sentences of Rousseau compre- 
hend the substance of all that can be said on the 
subject. 



1819.] TOULOUSE FRENCH DRAMA. 415 

" Commune ment tout se passe en beaux dialogues, 
bien agences, bien ronflans, oh. Ton voit d'abord 
que le premier soin de chaque interlocuteur, est 
toujours celui de briller. Presque tout s'enonee en 
maximes generates. Quelque agites qu'ils puissent 
etre, iis songent toujours plus au public qu'a eux- 
memes. 

" II y a encore une certaine dignite manieree 
dans le geste et dans le propos, qui ne permet 
jamais a la passion de parler exactement son lan- 
gage, ni a l'auteur de revetir son personnage, et de 
se transporter au lieu de la scene. 53 

We English contend that Shakspeare is the reverse 
of all this ; that his plays, instead of being poetical 
descriptions, are genuine expressions of the pas- 
sions ; that his characters do not talk like poets, but 
like men ; that he has the faculty which Rousseau 
says the French poets want ; and that he does, to 
use SchlegePs illustration, after the manner of a 
ventriloquist, transport his imagination out of him- 
self, and successively animate every personage of 
his scene ; that his characters speak in the very 
language in which their living prototypes might be 
supposed to have spoken ; so that in fact it appears 
as if he had stood by an eye-witness of the scenes 
he describes, and had taken down in writing what 
actually passed between the parties ; that instead of 
the cold generalities which are bandied about by the 
"intellectual gladiators" of the French stage, there 
is an individuality in Shakspeare's characters which 
gives to his scenes almost the effect of reality, and 
makes us regard the actors in them rather as real 



416 TOULOUSE FRENCH DRAMA. [MARCH, 

personages than as mere fictions of his imagi- 
nation. 

It is thus that we praise Shakspeare, — and for the 
most part justly ; though perhaps we may overdo 
it a little. If the French have too much bienseance, 
Shakspeare had too little ; and it may be doubted 
whether Johnson was not right when he boldly said, 
that no one of his plays, if now produced as the work 
of a living author, would be heard to a conclusion ; 
but his faults are as " dew drops on the lion's mane," 
and may be easily shaken off. 

Again, — when we challenge for him so peremp- 
torily and exclusively the claim of the poet of na- 
ture, — is he always natural ? Does he never make 
his characters speak rather like poets, than like 
men ? 

The language of highly-excited passion will often 
rise into poetry ; and I will not question the pro- 
priety of the figurative imagery in which he delights 
to clothe the effusions of grief and despair. But, 
to give one instance out of many, let us turn to the 
dagger scene of Macbeth. The air-drawn dagger 
is a grand conception, and the execution is a mighty 
proof of the genius of Shakspeare. The scene is 
awfully sublime, — yet, verging as it does on the 
border of extravagance, in any other hands it would 
probably have been ridiculous ; but, what shall we 
say to the description of night, which follows ? As 
a Poefs description of night, admirably adapted to 
the circumstances of the scene, it is excellent, and 
in a descriptive poem it would be strictly in place ; 
but what is the condition of Macbeth's mind ? 



IS19.] TOULOUSE FRENCH DRAMA. 417 

Is it natural that his imagination should be at 
leisure to furnish the terrible accompaniments of 
a murderer's night, which are there enumerated 
with a somewhat laboured detail ? To show how a 
Frenchman's mind is impressed by Shakspeare, let 
me record the sentiments of my friend Mons. B. C, 
to whom I gave this scene to read aloud, as a sample 
of Shakspeare's best manner. He read the dagger 
speech with great admiration, and though a little 
shocked at the coarseness of Lady Macbeth's lan- 
guage while she is waiting for the re-appearance of 
her husband, he went on very well till he came to 

" I heard the Owl scream and the Cricket cry." — 

The cricket was too much for his risible nerves ; 
— here he threw down the book, and fairly laughed 
out. He considered the introduction of so ignoble 
an image, as a high misdemeanor against the 
gorgeous dignity of tragedy, to say nothing of the 
absurdity of allowing Lady Macbeth to have leisure 
to listen to it. What would he have said to " not 
a mouse stirring ?" The whole scene that follows, 
which I have always thought at once so natural and 
so terrible, he considered as utterly out of nature, 
and childishly ridiculous. 

Figure z-vous, said he, an ambitious chieftain, who 
has, under the impulse of that passion, conceived 
and perpetrated the murder of his sovereign ; yet, — 
in the very moment of its accomplishment, instead 
of beino; engrossed with those asuirino* thoughts and 
anticipations natural to his situation, he has no 
better employment than to entertain his wife with 

2e 



418 ENCH DRAMA. [MARCH, 

the ci ion and cries of the drunken domestics, 

who had been disturbed from their sleep by his 
proceedings. 

" One cried God bless us ! and Amen ! the other," 

was to his ears the very acme of the ridiculous. 

Such was the impression made upon an intelligent 
Frenchman, who understood English very well, by 
one of the finest scenes in Shakspeare. Racine 
would certainly have managed the whole business very 
differently. It would have been much less terrible, 
but much more polite and well-bred ; and Monsieur 
and Mad one Macbeth would have rhymed it away 
ugh some scores of fine verses. Racine however 
is full of beauties, and, though he sinks into insig- 
nificance when compared with Shakspeare, may per- 
- challenge a comparison with any other Eng- 
lish tragic writer, excepting* Otway. 

His knowledge of human nature too is consider- 
able ; though it is not the knowledge of Shakspeare, 
who was profoundly intimate with the heart of man 
in all its passions and affections, as it exists in all 
times and all countries, and who painted with the 
nicest discrimination all tempers and dispositions ; 
— the gay and the joyous — the generous and the 
gallant — the serious and the sorrowful — the moody 
and the mad — the drunken and the desperate. The 
knowledge of Racine is more like that which has 
been displayed by Pope, and seems to be confined to 
factitious nature ; but this is beautifully and faith- 
fully delineated. His distress is often very affecting ; 
and when the heart is not affected, the mind may 



LS19.] TOULOUSE FRENCH DRAMA. 419 

generally find amusement and instruction in the 
beauty of his verses and the force of his reasoning". 

Though we generally begin by preferring Vol- 
taire's tragedies, the beauties of which are more 
showy, Racine will in the end establish his supe- 
riority. Racine seems to have been fitted for the 
strict rules of the French drama, and he writes con 
amore. Voltaire, who understood English, had a 
taste for something better. Though he abuses Shak- 
speare, he was not above stealing from him very 
copiously ; and then, as Steevens wittily remarked, 
like a midnight thief, he sets fire to the house he 
has robbed, in the hope of preventing the detection 
of his guilt. 

There is something iu Voltaire's tragedies which 
seems to show that his genius was embarrassed by 
the cramp and confinement of the French literary 
laws; of which indeed he himself complains : — 

" Je regrettais cette heureuse liberte que vous 
avez d'ecrire vos tragedies en vers non rimes;" 
though he maintains elsewhere that rhyme is ab- 
solutely necessary to the French verse, and gives, 
by way of example and proof, a very fine passage, 
which, by being stripped of these appendages, loses 
all its pretensions to poetry. If this be so, what 
more severe could be urged in the way of sarcasm 
against French poetry? for in fact it amounts to 
this, — that there is so little of the soul and spirit of 
poetry in their writers, that poetry would be con- 
verted into prose by Porson's receipt of removing 
the final syllable of each line. 

Voltaire is the last man who ought to have de- 

2e2 



420 TOULOUSE FRENCH DRAMA. [MARCH, 

predated Shakspeare ; for if his Zaire be superior in 
animation and energy to his other tragedies, the 
superiority will be due to Shakspeare, from whose 
fire he has caught a few sparks. But his thefts are 
not always turned to so good account. He some- 
times meddles with materials beyond his strength. 
The bow of Ulysses would have been of no use to a 
vulgar thief. The Ghost of Hamlet's Father, under 
Shakspeare's management, is awful and sublime ; 
but his counterpart in Semiramis is almost ridiculous. 

The question of the unities — so differently treated 
in the theatres of the two nations — has been nearly 
set at rest by Johnson in his admirable preface to 
Shakspeare. None will deny the necessity of unity 
of action ; and the unity of time cannot obviously 
admit of much latitude of interpretation, without 
violating probability, and destroying the closeness of 
imitation, upon which much of the merit of a dra- 
matic piece depends. The French contend, that 
their rigid adherence to the unity of place rests upon 
the same ground of closeness of imitation ; — but it 
is evident that this is founded upon a mistaken idea 
of illusion. 

For the fact is, that the imitation is not at all 
closer by the preservation of this unity, — but the con- 
trary. For instance, would not the imagination of 
the spectator be more easily reconciled to occasional 
shifting of the scene, in the tragedy of Cato, than to 
the monstrous absurdity of bringing all sorts of people, 
on all sorts of errands, to talk of love, and treason, in 
the same public hall ? The only effect of this practice 
has been to change the drama — from the represen- 



1819.] TOULOUSE FRENCH DRAMA. 421 

tation of an action — into a series of conversations. 
The difference, says Grimm, between the English 
and the French stage is, that, in England, " On fait 
courir le specAateur apres les evsnemens ; in France, 
ce sont les evenemens qui courent apres les spec- 
tateurs" In this, as in most other instances, the 
truth will lie somewhere between the two extremes. 
Change of scene may surely take place without any 
violation of the illusion, if there be no objection on 
the score of time ;— and, with all due deference to 
Dr. Johnson, it is rather the intervention of time, 
than the change of place, that ought to separate one 
act from another ; — and this, however small, should 
always make a pause in the drama. 

If there could exist any real doubt of the dramatic 
superiority of the English muse, what strong proof 
might be adduced from the practice of the French 
actors themselves ! Why is it that Talma prefers 
Hamlet and Manlius, to Orestes and Ninias, and 
other characters of the same kind, which are con- 
fessedly the chefs-oVo?.uvre of the French theatre ; 
while Hamlet and Manlius are poor imitations of 
our own Hamlet and Pierre ? Is it not that Talma 
has studied these characters in their native language, 
and contrived to impart to the cold copy some por- 
tion of the life and spirit of the divine originals ? 
But more of French acting hereafter. 

31st. Bancal, the woman concerned in the 
murder of Fualdes, was brought before the court of 
assize, to hear her pardon read. When this was 
over, she was exhibited as a spectacle to the gentle- 
folks of the town, French and English. 



422 DEPARTURE FROM TOULOUSE. [MARCH, 

She conversed on the subject of the murder, and 
persisted in maintaining the guilt of Yence, and 
Bessiere Veysac, who were lately rescued from the 
hands of justice by a host of perjuries. 

Packing up ; — this is a melancholy part of a tra- 
veller's life ; — to arrive and hear no welcome — to 
depart and hear no farewell — or, if he remain sta- 
tionary for a time, to be called away just as he is 
beginning to form new connexions. 

Farewell visits; — to Dr. Thomas, from whose 
medical skill, and friendly attentions, my health has 
derived the greatest benefit ; — and to Mr. Kemble, 
to whom I have been indebted for many pleasant 
evenings of social intercourse. It is delightful to 
see the father of the English stage enjoying the 
evening of life in the tranquillity of literary leisure ; 
a man to whose public exertions we have all been 
indebted for the highest intellectual gratification ; 
who, by the charm of his art, has become so iden- 
tified in our imaginations with the ideal characters 
of Shakspeare, that those who have seen him can 
scarcely think of Macbeth — King John — Wolsey — 
Hotspur — Brutus — or Coriolanus, without embody- 
ing them in the form and features of — John Philip 
Kemble. 



1819.] 423 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Voyage down the Garonne — Bourcleaux — Theatre — Talma — 
French Wines — Journey to Paris — Tours — Scenery of the 
Loire — State of Society in France — Law of Inheritance — 
Orleans — Versailles. 

April 1st. Voyage down the Garonne to Bour- 
deaux. — The duration of this voyage depends en- 
tirely upon the state of the river. In flood time 
it may be done in two days ; but the ordinary 
time required is four. There is little in the scenery 
of the banks to demand notice. In so long a 
course, it is impossible that there should not be a 
few picturesque spots, but there are very few. It is 
but a comfortless voyage ; there is no regular pas- 
sage-boat, and the only vessels are small flat-bot- 
tomed barges, without any deck, or other protection 
from the weather, than such a tent as you may be 
able to construct. Again — if the water be low, you 
are constantly liable to get a-ground ; and it can 
never be a matter of certainty where you may halt 
for the night. Still, if the weather is fine, it is well 
enough. There is a sort of mill for grinding corn 
in use on the Garonne, which might perhaps be in- 
troduced with advantage on our own rivers. It is a 
simple wooden structure, containing also the miller's 
house, built upon a solid flat-bottomed boat, which 
is moored on the stream by means of strong iron 
chains. The streams are very rapid, and the Ga- 



424 ARRIVAL AT BOURDEAUX. [APR. 

ronne is subject to sudden and violent floods : 
nevertheless, these mills stand their ground ; and 
there is scarcely a stream in the river without one 
between Toulouse and Bourdeaux. 

There are some fine points of view ; particularly 
at the embouchure of the Lot, where you command 
a prospect of the town and chateau of Aiguillon ; 
and again at La Rt'ole, where there is an ancient 
Benedictine convent, of late turned into the re- 
sidence of the Prefect, which, with the surrounding 
scenery, forms a beautiful picture. But these points 
are of rare occurrence. It was not till the evening 
of the fifth day that we arrived within sight of 
Bourdeaux. The character of the scenery improves 
as you descend the river, and the approach to Bour- 
deaux is magnificent. I doubt whether it be not 
equal to Lisbon : the river, which is rather an arm 
of the sea, is nearly as broad again as the Thames at 
London. It takes a bend at this point, and the 
town and the quays form a splendid crescent on the 
left bank, the whole circuit of which is taken in at 
one coup d'ccil, while the opposite bank is rich with 
woods, and vineyards, and villas. The piers of a 
stone bridge are finished; and the superstructure 
will soon be completed, which will form a mag- 
nificent feature in the prospect. The execution of 
this project, the possibility of which was long con- 
tested, is a splendid proof of the genius and ability 
of the architect. 

Such is the approach to Bourdeaux. The town 
itself will be by far the handsomest town in France, 
if the new buildings in the faubourg of Chartron are 



1S19.] BOURDEAUX THEATRE. 425 

carried on upon the scale which is at present de- 
signed. The Chapeau- Rouge is already, as far as it 
goes, one of the finest streets in Europe. Here is 
the theatre, the facade of which is a model of ar- 
chitectural beauty ; and the bottom of the street 
terminates in the exchange, the quay, the river, and 
the shipping. Vessels of any size can come up to 
Bourdeaux; a frigate and two brigs have been 
lately built for Ferdinand of Spain, and are now fit- 
ting out for the grand expedition to South America. 

10 th. Every thing at Bourdeaux is on a grand 
scale ; the promenades are beautiful, and the public 
buildings are numerous and splendid. The cathe- 
dral, as is the case with many of the handsomest 
Gothic buildings in France, was the work of the 
English, during the time they occupied this country 
as masters. The price of lodging and provisions is 
somewhat dearer here than at Toulouse. The or- 
dinary price of a pension at Bourdeaux, including 
board and lodging, is eight francs per day. 

17th. Attended the theatre — which is splendid. 
The boxes project like hanging balconies, in a man- 
ner that I have seen no where else, which brings out 
the company as it were in alto relievo, and gives a 
very pleasing effect. Talma played Nero, in the 
Briiannicus of Racine. The part is not a very pro- 
minent one, but he made the most of it. 

His style of acting is more like Kean's than any 
other of our actors ; that is, he deals in electric 
shocks, which come flashing through the sublimity 
of the storm. His concluding words " Narcisse ! — ■ 
suivez-moi /" were sriven with tremendous effect. 



426 BOURDEAUX TALMA. [APR. 

His voice is magnificent, though perhaps none of 
his cadences are superior to the quiet low tones of 
Kean, when he is in his saddest mood, as in parts of 
Othello and Hamlet. Upon the whole, I was much 
delighted. He is a great actor — in spite of the 
French tragedy. He does all he can to bring it 
down to nature, and it is a proof of the charm of 
nature, to witness the effect which his delivery of the 
text produces, relieved as it is by occasional touches 
of nature and feeling, when compared with the 
tedious and tiresome uniformity of that declamatory 
recitative, which is the general practice of the 
French stage. But great taste and discretion are 
necessary in the introduction and management of 
this familiar tone, which certainly may be carried 
too far — for nothing is worse than the affectation of 
being natural. Hear Voltaire on this subject : — 
" On s'est pique de reciter des vers comme de la 
prose ; on n'a pas considere' qu'un langage au- 
dessus du langage ordinaire, doit etre debite d'un 
ton au-dessus du ton familier." 

18th. Saw Talma again, in Oreste, in the Andro- 
maque of Racine. He has in an extraordinary manner 
the faculty of altering his appearance, and one could 
scarcely recognise him as the same person who had 
played Nero, till he spoke ; but his voice is not to be 
mistaken — it is divine, and possesses every variety 
of expression ; — his whisper is wonderfully impres- 
sive. There is something unhappy in the contour 
of his countenance. A thick double chin encumbers 
his physiognomy and injures its expression, when 
the features are at rest ; but when his face is agitated 



1819.] BOURDEAUX TALMA. 427 

by the tempest and whirlwind of the passions, or 
when all expression is as it were annihilated, by the 
wild vacancy of despair, the effect is overwhelming'. 
His action is overdone to an English taste ; the 
constant shaking of the arms, and then slapping 
them violently against the thighs, has something 
ridiculously vehement in it to us ; but those modes 
of expression are different in different countries, and 
it would be prejudice to assume our own as the 
standard of propriety. Still, till you are habituated 
to this gesticulation, it looks like tearing a passion 
to tatters, and has something of the effect of bur- 
lesque. His management of soliloquy is admirable. 
It is just what it ought to be — thinking aloud. 

It is impossible to conceive any thing more awfully 
terrible than his scene in the fifth act. Raving 
madness is generally disgusting on the stage ; 
shocking the feelings by an exhibition of frightful 
bodily writhings, and nothing more, — " the contor- 
tions of the Sibyl without her inspiration." But 
there is a dreadful reality in Talma's fury ; and the 
ghastly changes which affect his features seem to 
arise from the internal agonies of his soul. He 
made the blood run cold, and one might have 
fancied it was indeed Orestes furiis agitatus, the 
victim of divine vengeance, that was on the scene. 

Though Talma is very fond of contrast, and puts 
forth his whole strength in particular passages, 
which resemble Kean's bursts of passion, yet he is 
also more attentive to the general effect of the cha- 
racter than our own actors are. From the moment 
of his entrance he seems to forget that he is Talma. 



42S BOURDEAUX FRENCH WINES. [APR. 

No look or motion ever escapes him that betrays a 
consciousness that he is acting to an audience. This 
complete identification with his part is the great 
charm of his style. Nothing destroys this identity 
more, than the appearance of any consciousness of 
the presence of an audience, on the part of an actor. 
Yet on our own stage the illusion is dispelled at his 
very first entrance, by the acknowledgments which 
custom compels him to make to the plaudits of the 
spectators ; — a frightful solecism in our theatrical 
practice, which we should do well to reform, from 
the example of cur neighbours. 

24th. Voyage in the steam-boat to Paviliac, ten 
leagues down the river. The banks are tame and 
vmi nte resting. At the junction of the Dordogne 
and the Garonne, the confluence takes place in such 
a manner, that it is difficult to say which river it is 
that runs into the other ; and their magnitude is 
nearly the same. Hence, it is said, arose a great 
controversy between the partisans of the Garonne 
and the Dordogne, which of the two should give its 
name to the united stream. This was at last decided 
by the adoption of La Gironde — the name of the 
territory common to both rivers. 

House rent in the neighbourhood of Bourdeaux 
is low enough; a ready-furnished house, containing 
every suitable accommodation for a small family, 
with five acres of vineyard yielding fruit enough to 
make a considerable quantity of wine, was offered 
me to-day for 500 francs per annum ; and there was 
a peasant residing on the estate, who for half the 
produce would have undertaken the care and 
management of the whole. 



1819.] BOURDEAUX FRENCH WINES. 429 

It is more difficult to buy claret of the best quality 
at Bourdeaux than in London. The fact is, that all 
the produce of the vineyards is in the hands of a few 
merchants ; and it would scarcely answer their pur- 
pose to sell the very best quality, unadulterated, at 
any price — necessary as it is to them to leaven their 
whole stock. For the increasing" demand for the 
wines of Bourdeaux, occasioned by the growing 
consumption of Russia and the East Indies, aug- 
ments the proportion of inferior wine which is mixed 
up in the general mass. The common wine of the 
Pays de Medoc — whence by the way comes our 
cherry whose name we have corrupted into May 
Duke — is light and pleasant, and may be bought 
for about tenpence a bottle ; but it has little re- 
semblance to our English claret, which derives its 
peculiar flavour from being seasoned with a mixture 
of a strong wine of Burgundy. 

One of the best wines of the south of France is 
the wine of Cahors, which is rich and strong, and 
well calculated to please the English taste ; but un- 
fortunately the system of commerce which we have 
so long acted upon has transferred the wine trade 
to Portugal, where we buy worse liquor at a higher 
price. " There are few Englishmen," said Hume 
eighty years ago, " who would not think their country 
absolutely ruined, were French wines sold in Eng- 
land so cheap and in such abundance, as to supplant 
in some measure all ale and home-brewed liquors. 
But, would we lay aside prejudice, it would not be 
difficult to prove that nothing could be more inno- 
cent, perhaps advantageous." The misfortune is 



430 BOURDEAUX TALMA. [MAY, 

that now, when the true principles of commerce are 
generally understood and acknowledged, it is diffi- 
cult to introduce them into practice, on account of 
the long establishment of the old system of restraints 
and prohibitions ; the effect of which has been well 
described by Hume — as serving no purpose but to 
check industry, and to rob ourselves and our neigh- 
bours of the common benefits of art and nature. 

May 1st. Talma's Hamlet is a chef d'oeuvre ; 
in his hands it is the most affecting picture of filial 
piety that can be imagined. His power of expres- 
sing grief is beyond every thing I ever witnessed on 
the stage, or in real life. As Hamlet, there is an 
appearance of concentrated sorrow impressed upon 
his features and figure, which never leaves him from 
beginning to end. He is — like the Niobe of whom 
his prototype speaks — " all tears" — to the utter ex- 
clusion of that " antic disposition " which the English 
Hamlet assumes, to the prejudice perhaps of our 
sympathy with his sorrows. The other alterations 
are chiefly these : Ducis makes Ophelie the daughter 
of Claudius, who is not brother to the murdered king, 
but only 'premier prince du sang ; and this certainly 
heightens the embarras of the French Hamlet, who 
is as much in love with Ophelie as the English ; — 

Immoler Claudius, — punir cet inhumain, 

C'est plonger a sa fille un poignard dans le sein ; 

C'est la tuer moi-meme ! 

The madness and death of Ophelie are also 
avoided. The lovers however quarrel violently ; 
the lady being determined to save her father, and 
Hamlet equally bent upon his destruction. Then 



1819.] BOURDEAUX TALMA. 431 

for Gertrude — she does not marry Claudius ; — the 
infidelity has preceded trie murder of the king, and 
she is thenceforward all penitence and horror. The 
Hamlet of Ducis too is fonder of his mother than 
the Hamlet of Shakspeare ; and the French hob- 
goblin is a much bloodier fellow than the English 
ghost : — he insists upon it that Hamlet shall not 
only speak daggers, but use them also ; and his 
bloody commission extends to the punishment of 
both the guilty parties. It is in vain however that 
Hamlet attempts the assassination of his mother — 
his hand and heart fail him ; — ultimately however 
she saves him the trouble, and the Spirit is appeased 
and satisfied. The stage effect of the invisible 
speechless spectre of Ducis — which is seen only in 
the expressive eye of Talma — is certainly superior 
to the " too solid flesh" of the "honest ghost" of 
Shakspeare. The moment the English ghost enters 
with his " martial stalk" — the illusion is over. But 
perhaps the finest part of the French play is the 
scene where Hamlet relates to his friend Norceste 
his interview with his father's spirit; — this is the 
ne plus ultra of acting. Instead of Shakspeare's 
expedient of the play " to catch the conscience" of 
the guilty parties, Hamlet causes Norceste to an- 
nounce to them, as news from England, a similar 
story of treason and murder, perpetrated there. 

Ducis makes the conscience of Claudius immove- 
able; " il rCest point trouble" exclaims Norceste in 
doubt; " Non /" replies Hamlet, " Non ! — mais re- 
garde ma mere /" the effect of these words as de- 
livered by Talma was truly astonishing. At the end 



432 LEAVE BOURDEAUX FOR PARIS. [.MAY, 

of the play, the hostile approach of Claudius is 
announced to Hamlet, while he is engaged in a most 
affecting' eclair cis sement with his mother : he starts 
up, exclaiming — Lu i ! ce monstre ! — qu y il vienne ! and 
then, after a pause, and a long- start, a la Kean ; — 
Qu'il vienne! je P attends ! ma vengeance est cert nine! 

This burst — quHl vienne ! je V attends ! is per- 
haps the most electrifying thing on any stage ; — 
and then the voice of Talma ! — non hominem sonat ! 
There is a supernatural impressiveness about it, that 
affects the soul in the most awful manner, while it 
can melt in a moment into tones of the truest and 
most touching pathos. Talma stands alone upon 
the French stage, with no rival near the throne, at 
an immeasurable elevation above all competitors. It 
is a common, and I believe in general a just notion, 
that actors are stimulated by mutual excellence, and 
play better for being " acted up to " — as the phrase 
is. But though this may be true of the superior 
actor in relation to the inferior, I doubt whether it 
be ever true vice versa ; and it is easy to perceive 
that the powers of the inferior actors are paralyzed 
as they approach the "intolerable day" which 
Talma sheds around him, and " 'gin to pale their 
ineffectual fire." 

In a word, Talma's Hamlet is " the thing itself;" 
and may be classed with the Coriolanus of Kemble 
— the Queen Catherine of Siddons — the Othello of 
Kean ; and though last not least — the Sir Pertinax 
Macsycophant of Cooke. 

5th. Left Bourdeaux in a voiturier's carriage, 
in which we had not proceeded far before we dis- 



1819.] tours. 433 

covered that one of the mules had almost the agility 
of Tickle-Toby's mare in curvetting with her heels, 
and that our driver was a Provencal brute, of the 
true Marseillois breed, — much more vicious and 
headstrong than the beast he drove. 

There is little in the route from Bourdeaux to 
Tours, to make one wish to linger on the way ; and 
I had often occasion to wish that I had adopted a 
more rapid conveyance. The public walk at Angou- 
leme commands a fine prospect; and the view from 
Poitiers is superb, independently of the historical re- 
collections which make it interesting to an English- 
man. Every town of France seems to have its 
promenade. The public walk at Poitiers is delight- 
ful ; and its situation on a lofty height affords faci- 
lities, which have not been neglected, in laying it 
out to the best advantage. 

On the sixth day of our journey we made a halt at 
Ormes, in order to see the chateau of M. d' Argenson. 
This is the only chateau I have seen in France that 
can bear any comparison with the country residence 
of an English nobleman. It is situated on the bank 
of the Yienne ; and the disposition and laying out of 
the ground, from the back of the house to the river, 
which is within 200 yards, is in the true style of 
English gardening ; — and I could have almost fan- 
cied myself on the banks of my own native Wye. 

12th. We this morning reached Tours, chiefly 
remarkable for a very handsome well-built street, 
which is a rarity in France. The view from the hill 
before you arrive at Tours commands the greater 
part of the Touraine. The character of the scenery 



434 AMBOISE. [may, 

is made up of that calm kind of beauty consistent 
with fertility, without any pretensions to the grand 
or the romantic. 

Soon after leaving- Tours, our kicking mule had 
nearly played us a jade's trick. The road lies on the 
bank of the Loire, under a range of rocks on one 
side, and with a shelving steep descending to the 
river on the other, from which the road is protected 
by a low wall. Our mule, being on the side farthest 
from the river, seemed to think this a favourable op- 
portunity for venting its malice; and after a despe- 
rate effort, succeeded in forcing its companion over 
the wall. Our situation was one of great danger ; 
for the struggles of the poor animal, who remained 
suspended in the air by the harness, nearly dragged 
carriage and all over together. We succeeded how- 
ever in cutting the traces, and the beast, thus set 
free, rolled down the steep without suffering any ma- 
terial injury ; — and here we left our voiturier and his 
mule to settle their affairs as they pleased. We might 
have had some difficulty in arranging our own affairs 
with him, but for that ready assistance which the 
law affords to every one who wants its aid in France. 
The mayors are invested with powers which have a 
much wider range than those of our own magistrates; 
and in all petty disagreements, you may at once 
summon your adversary, and have an immediate and 
summary decision of the matter in dispute. This, to 
travellers at least, is a very great comfort, for to 
them a delay of justice would amount to a refusal. 

13th. At Amboise there is a castle, the principal 
curiosity of which is a tower, by which they say the 



1819.] SCENERY OF THE LOIRE. 435 

king used to ascend into the castle in his carriage. 
Here are the horns of a stag, eight feet long ; and 
there is a joint of the same animal's neck, as large 
round as a man's body. This stag, whose horns are, 
if I remember righlly, still larger than those in 
Warwick Castle, is said to have been killed in the 
time of Charles VIII. The chateau of Chanteloup 
ought to be seen, as affording a superb specimen of 
the wretchedness of French taste. There is how- 
ever an artificial rock there, which, if it were not 
crowned with a Chinese temple, would be worthy of 
an English garden. 

It is impossible not to be disappointed with the 
boasted scenery of the Loire. The road and the 
river as far as Blois are -veil enough, and the views 
are occasionally very striking ; but after you leave 
Blois, nothing can well be more uninteresting. 

The peasantry, too, do not realize the pcitures 
which the imagination would draw of the " festive 
choir," whom Goldsmith describes as having led 

" With tuneless pipe beside the rrmrm'ring Loire." 

I have in vain looked for any specimens of female 
beauty amongst the lower classes ; — and, indeed, the 
hard labour and exposure to the sun, to which they 
are subject, will sufficiently account for the want of 
symmetry of form, and beauty of complexion, so ob- 
servable in the female peasantry of France. 

Blois is well calculated for an English residence. 
The people are said to be better disposed towards us 
than in most other parts of France, and it is parti- 
cularly rich in all the productions of the soil. 

2 f 2 



436 STATE OF SOCIETY IN FRANCE. [MAY, 

The price of a pension, including all the comforts 
of hoard and lodging, does not exceed 90 francs per 
month. 

This too is a part of France which seems to have 
suffered less than most other places from the fury of 
the Revolution. And this is a great consideration ; for, 
whatever political advantages France may have de- 
rived from the Revolution, it will require a long time 
to repair the havoc and confusion which that tre- 
mendous explosion has made in the strata of society 
— elevating the lower, depressing the higher, and 
disturbing all. The axe of equality has levelled 
every thing in France, and to look for a gentleman 
is to lose your labour. All the distinctions of rank 
have been cut down, like the old trees of the forest, 
and the new generation that have sprung up, like the 
coppice, are all on a level ; by which the social scene 
is as much disfigured, as the landscape would be by 
a similar process. You will seek in vain for that 
high-bred polish of manners which has been so much 
the boast, as peculiar to the haut-ton of France. 
The young men have, generally speaking, a roue, 
rake-helly demeanour ; — the officers in the army are 
only to be distinguished by their epaulets; and 
there is throughout society a coarseness of manners, 
which savours strongly of sans-culotlsm. In losing 
the external simagrees of the old school, the French 
have lost the greater part of their politeness ; for if 
politeness consist, as Fielding has beautifully defined 
it, in an extension of the great rule of Christian con- 
duct to behaviour — so as to behave to all as you 
would they should behave to you — the French had 



1819.] STATE OF SOCIETY IN FRANCE. 437 

never at any time more of this true benevolence in 
trifles than their neighbours. 

True politeness indeed can only be associated with 
principle and honour ; for it must be founded as well 
on self-respect, as on a sense of respect for others ; 
and this can scarcely be expected in a country where 
it has been long a favourite maxim that every man 
has his price, and that every woman — is no better 
than she should be. The decline of morals has in- 
deed been greater than the decline of manners ; and 
the whole history of France, since the Revolution, 
exhibits a lamentable picture of the most degrading 
want of principle. The French were formerly dis- 
tinguished, if by no very strict principles of religion, 
at least, by a high sense of honour. But the age of 
chivalry is gone ; France is no longer the country of 
" high thoughts seated in a heart of courtesy;" — 
and we shall in vain seek in the campaigns of the 
soldiers of Napoleon for any portion of that gene- 
rosity of sentiment which animated the knight " sans 
peur et sans reproche" It is common to hear the 
conduct of French officers in breaking their parole 
not only mentioned without censure, but praised and 
applauded — like a successful theft might have been 
in Sparta — as a justifiable and meritorious act of 
dexterity. It is to be hoped that the continuance of 
tranquillity, the progress of education, and the re- 
vival of religious principles, may restore to the 
moral sense of the French people that sensibility 
which has been almost destroyed by the long reign of 
license during the Revolution. There are, however, 
many obstacles that will prevent the re-organization 



438 FRENCH LAW OF INHERITANCE. [MAY, 

of the " Corinthian capital" of society in France ; 
which it is desirable should exist in all countries — if 
it consist, as it ought, of a class elevated above the 
vulgar herd, not only by the amount of their posses- 
sions, but by their intellectual and moral superiority. 

One obstacle may be found in the spirit of equality, 
which it would be difficult to eradicate ; and which 
in France is associated with that individual vanity 
which has no respect for high rank, or high station. 

Again, there is the law of inheritance ; the effect 
of v. Inch is to prevent the establishment of a perma- 
nent aristocracy of families, whose hereditary weight 
and influence serve as ballast in keeping the vessel of 
society steady. 

Though a man may do what he pleases with his 
property during his life, this law limits his power of 
disposing of it after his death. If he have only one 
child, he is allowed the absolute disposal of a moiety 
— the child inheriting the other as matter of right ; 
if he have two children, he can only dispose of a 
third ; and if he have more than two, three-fourths, 
of his property must be equally divided amongst the 
children, and one-fourth only is left to his own dis- 
posal ; either to leave to a stranger, or to increase 
the portion of the child of his preference. If the 
father die intestate, the whole property is divided 
equally amongst the children. 

The law of general division, if confined to cases 
of intestacy , might, perhaps, be rational enough, as 
far as it is founded in the interests of the many, in 
opposition to the exclusive right of primogeniture. 
But any interference with the right of a man to 



1819.] FRENCH LAW OF INHERITANCE. 439 

dispose of his property at his death — excepting so 
far as the general good of society may make it 
necessary to guard against perpetual entails — is 
manifestly impolitic, as removing one of the greatest 
stimulants of human industry. The relations of 
private life, indeed, can never be the proper objects 
of legislative interference. The interests of children 
may safely be left to the natural operation of pa- 
rental affection ; and the evil tendency of a law 
which makes children to a great degree independent 
of their parents, has already been very extensively 
felt in France. 

While such has been the effect of this law upon 
domestic life, its consequences, in a national point 
of view, will probably be still more pernicious. The 
poor-laws of England have been well characterized 
by a French writer, as " la verole politique de 
rAngleterre;" but by what single term shall we 
designate the complicated evils which may be ex- 
pected to flow from the French law of inheritance ? 
For while, on the one hand, its natural operation 
will be to produce an excess of population, by the 
equal facilities for marrying which it affords to all 
the members of a family, it must, at the same time, 
be diminishing the means of support, by its con- 
stant attacks upon capital, in the continual division 
and sub-division of property. Such a system, if 
permitted to continue, must, in the end, produce 
universal beggary ; for, if we follow it to its natural 
conclusion, every acre in France will finally be 
divided, to the utter extinction of all capital, and 
every Frenchman eventually reduced to the condi- 
tion of a pauper. 



440 VERSAILLES. [MAY, 

Though the morals and manners of the highest 
class of society have suffered much from the Revo- 
lution, — though you will occasionally meet in the 
parlour with something that savours of the servants' 
hall, — you will perhaps meet with more of High 
Life below Stairs in France, than in any other 
country in the world. There is in France an univer- 
sal quickness of intellect and apprehension, and a 
perfect freedom from that awkward embarrassment 
of manner, which is in England, I believe, denomi- 
nated clownishness. As far therefore as the mere 
outward air of good breeding goes, almost every 
Frenchman is well-bred; and you may enter into 
conversation with a French servant or a French 
cobbler, upon any of the topics that are common to 
the mixed company of rational and intelligent 
people all over the world, without any fear of being 
disgusted by coarseness or vulgarity. 

14th. Orleans; — the cathedral is a beautiful 
structure, and the view from the tower will well repay 
the trouble of ascending it, which cannot be said 
of all such expeditions. A walk of three miles will 
carry you to the source of the Loiret, which is con- 
sidered an object of curiosity. This river rises in a 
plain ; it is said to be navigable to its source, though 
no boats are to be seen ; and they tell you its 
source is unfathomable. 

15th. We diverged from the road this morning 
to the left ; and, passing through a very interesting 
country, arrived to breakfast at Versailles. On the 
highest ground in the town stands the palace. The 
old front next the town, built by Louis XIII., is 



]S19.] ENTRANCE TO PARIS. 441 

heavy and ugly. In the courts on this side were 
performed the tragic scenes that disgraced the 5th 
and 6th of October, 1789. The facade of the 
palace on the garden side is very fine ; but the 
waste of expense in formal alleys, a mob of statues, 
and unmeaning buildings, hurts an English eye. 
We walked to Le petit Trianon, the favourite re- 
treat of Marie Antoinette. The gardens are a tole- 
rable imitation of the English taste, but still too 
artificial. The Tour de Malbrook is a foolish thing 
enough ; — but the cottages are very pretty, and one 
might admire the taste which designed them, if 
they had been intended for the real habitations of 
clean and decent peasantry ; — instead of retreats in 
which the queen and her favourites might play at 
shepherdesses. 

The approach to Paris from Versailles is ex- 
tremely grand. You come at once upon the Place 
Louis Quinze, which is the finest spot in Paris, or 
perhaps in any other town. 

Drove immediately to the Hotel de Boston in the 
Rue Yivienne ; an excellent house in every respect. 



442 [may, 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Comparison of London with Paris — Catacombs — Chamber of 
Deputies — Theatre Francais — Louvre — French Women- 
Gaming Tables — Place Vendome — Gobelin Tapestry — 
Deaf and Dumb — French Character — Journey to Dieppe — 
Conclusion. 

May 19th. In comparing Paris with London, 
the latter has, I think, decidedly the advantage in 
general magnificence, and all the attributes of a 
metropolis ; though perhaps the former may have 
the greater number of beau morceaux in proportion 
to its size. But then, it must be remembered, that 
Paris is not much more than half the size of London. 

Paris has certainly nothing that can be put in 
competition with our squares ; nor are there such 
places for riding and walking as the Park and Ken- 
sington Gardens. The Thames would be degraded 
by a comparison with the Seine ; and Waterloo 
Bridge is worth all the bridges in Paris put toge- 
ther. The Pantheon, — fine building as it is, — 
would not even by a Frenchman be placed upon a 
level with St. Paul's ; nor can any Englishman 
allow Notre Dame to be mentioned in the same 
sentence with Westminster Abbey. Still, however, 
I think we must own that a walk from the Boule- 
vards, down the Rue de la Paix, through the Place 
Vendome, to the Place Louis Quinze, and so on to 
the river, proceeding thence along the Quai to the 



1819.] paris. 443 

Thuileries and the Louvre, would present an assem- 
blage of magnificent objects, which exceed any 
thing that London has to show within the same 
compass. 

In making a survey of both capitals, one cannot 
help being struck with the distinctive differences of 
national character, which are so strongly marked in 
the leading features of the one and the other. Comfort 
seems to have presided at the building of London, 
and show at that of Paris. A drive through the streets 
of Paris will explain to you at once, that it is the 
capital of a people who have no taste for the privacy 
of home ; but who prefer to live in the glare and 
glitter of public amusements. The houses are of 
an immense height, but then no man's " house is 
his castle;" each story has its tenants, and if the 
effect of such wholesale buildings be magnificent, it 
is obtained at a prodigious sacrifice of domestic 
comfort. But, to make comfortable homes is not 
the object in Paris; on the contrary, it is upon 
public places that attention and expense are almost 
exclusively employed; — and these are made as lux- 
urious as possible, The cafes, the restaurateurs, 
and the thousand establishments for the entertain- 
ment and recreation of the public, will be found in 
the highest state of perfection ; and it is to enjoy 
themselves in such places, that the French escape 
from the comfortless retreat of their own dwellings. 
In London we find the reverse of all this. For, 
though our public buildings are in the grandest 
style of magnificence ; yet, perhaps, the most strik- 
ing feature in London is the evident and paramount 



444 paris. [may, 

object of all the vast sums expended in its improve- 
ment ; — namely, the individual comfort of the in- 
habitants. Witness the paving and lighting the 
streets; the admirable though invisible works, by 
means of which water is circulated through all the 
veins of the metropolis ; — works of which Paris is 
wholly destitute — and the spacious laying out of the 
squares : which, splendid as they are, seem less 
intended for show, than for the health and enjoy- 
ment of those that live in them. 

If the houses in London are not uniformly so 
high as those in Paris, it is because they are adapted 
for the use of different classes of people; and they 
rise, according to the rank of their possessors, from 
the humble scale of the Suburbs, to the magnificent 
proportions of Grosvenor-square. I can easily be- 
lieve that a traveller may be more struck with the 
coup (Toeil of Paris, than of London. But he has 
seen the least striking part of London, who has only 
seen the outside of the streets ; — " there is that 
within which passe th show ;" — for London must be 
seen in the luxury and comfort of its private so- 
ciety, which will furnish scenes of enjoyment, such 
as cannot be found, I believe, in any other metro- 
polis in the world. 

If the two towns however be merely considered 
as scenes of gaiety, as places of holiday recreation, 
it is not surprising' that Paris should be almost 
universally preferred by strangers. One may cer- 
tainly say of it, as I believe was said of Seneca's 
style — abundat dulcibus vitiis — in other words, it 
is a charming place to play the fool in. But, 



1S19.] paris. 445 

whatever superiority it may have over London is 
derived chiefly from its very inferiority of scale and 
grandeur ; for this gives it an advantage of the 
same kind with that which a small theatre has over 
a large one ; inasmuch as the spectacle with all 
its details is compressed within a smaller compass, 
and brought nearer to the spectator. Thus the 
gardens of the Thuileries are very inferior in extent 
and beauty to those of Kensington ; but then the 
former are in the very heart of Paris ; while the 
latter, for any useful purpose to the majority of the 
inhabitants of London, might as well be at York. 

Again — Tivoli is certainly not equal to Yauxhall ; 
but then you may walk to Tivoli in ten minutes 
from the Palais Royal, see all that is to be seen, 
walk back again, and be in bed before midnight, 
without any of the fuss and trouble attendant upon 
an expedition to Vauxhall. Every thing, in a word, 
that Paris contains is come-atable at pleasure ; and 
if you add, that there is no smoke, that a dollar will 
go as far as a guinea does in London, and that it 
has not, as far as I could see, the horrid nests of 
human vermin which are to be found in Wapping 
and St. Giles's, you will have said nearly all that 
can be said in its favour. 

In the essential points of eating and drinking, 
indeed, the Parisians may claim the most unques- 
tionable superiority over us. It is impossible not 
to admit, that cider cannot vie with champagne, 
and that burgundy is better than beer. Vive Paris 
pour qui a de P argent ! says somebody ; but one 
might almost cry, Vive Paris pour qui rfea a pas I 



446 PARIS RESTAURATEURS. [MAY, 

Witness the culinary affiches with which the walls 
are placarded. 

" Tabar, Restaurateur: Diner a 30 sols (15rf. 
English) — On a Potage, 3 Plats ires forts, une 
demi-bouteille debonvin, Pain a discretion, un beau 
dessert, — on un petit verre de vieille eau-de-vie de 
Cognac. Le tout au choix. Le service se fait en 
bean linge ; argenterie ; et porcelaine, &c." 

If this should be too dear, you are tempted by 
another afhche close by. 

" Unique dans son genre ! Diner copieux a 22 
sols (lie/. English) par tete, servi en couvert et bols 
d' argent, en beau linge blanc. On a potage, 3 plats 
au choix, dessert, un carafbn d'excellent vin. Pain 
a discretion. On remplace le dessert par un petit 
verre d'eau-de-vie. 

" Le public est prevenu qu'afin de meriter sa 
confiance et flatter son gout, il trouvera la carte 
bien dttaille'e et variee tous les jours, tant en 
volaille, gibier, poisson, que patisserie et dessert." 

This will suffice to show, that the Parisians un- 
derstand the art of puffing and placarding, at least 
as well as the Londoners. It may be possible, in 
London, to get the substance of a dinner \t a chop- 
house for as small a sum as two shillings ; but in a 
wretched form, and without any of the accessories 
of luxury, or even comfort. In Paris, however, you 
may dine at the Salon Francois in the Palais Royal, 
in a superb salon, as well fitted up, and better 
lighted, than the Piazza coffee-house in Covent- 
garden, and be served with soup, three dishes au 
choix, bread a discretion, a pint of Burgundy, and 



1819.] PARIS ST. CLOUD. 447 

dessert, all for the sum of eighteen pence ; — and 
the waiter makes you a low bow for the gratuity of 
three-halfpence ! 

20th. There is another advantage in Paris, which 
is derived from its inferiority of size ; — a walk of 
half an hour will take you from the centre of the 
town into the country. In London this is the work 
of half-a-day. And when you are once clear of the 
barrieres, you are as much in the country, and 
breathe as pure an air, as if you were a hundred 
miles off. This facility of uniting the pleasures of 
town and country makes Paris very agreeable. St. 
Cloud, for instance, is a mere walk, and a more 
romantic scene can scarcely be conceived. 

The park at St. Cloud during a fete might be 
compared with a scene in Fairy Land. To compare 
it with something nearer home ; — imagine several 
thousand people in Windsor Forest — though perhaps 
the wood at St. Cloud may be flattered by the com- 
parison — temporary shops erected without number 
on each side of a fine alley of trees — and the whole 
forest animated by people amusing themselves in all 
sorts of ways ; — here dancing in troops under the 
shade — there riding in round-about machines, with 
ships attached to the extremity of their poles, which 
sail round and round with an undulating motion, 
like that of a vessel under a steady breeze ; — here 
enjoying the jokes of Punch and Merry Andrew — 
and there climbing paths that would not ill become 
the pleasure-ground of an Esquimaux. The whole 
combination is enchantingly picturesque, and real- 
izes the descriptions that I have read in some 



44S PARIS CATACOMBS. [MA V, 

foreign novels, in which I always thought there was 
something too poetical to be fact ; but the fact is 
not less poetical, if one may so say, than the de- 
scription. 

The French, though without any taste for the 
romantic in nature, have a happy knack in the 
imitation of it. The gardens of Tivoli, for instance, 
though so inferior to Vauxhall in capabilities, are 
rendered much more rural and romantic ; and this 
is extraordinary enough, considering the different 
tastes of the two nations. Instead of taking your 
refreshment in boxes, as at Vauxhall, you here take 
it under the trees, or in arbours ; the walks too are 
delightfully solitary, and the whole scheme of the 
entertainments is got up in a better taste, than the 
fetes champetres on our side of the water. 

21st. Visit to the Catacombs. Our descent into 
these mansions of the dead was less impressive than 
it might have been, owing to the association of 
numbers. 

The effect which such a scene is calculated to 
produce upon the imagination is almost entirely de- 
stroyed, by the din and distraction of a large party. 
As, however, it requires some time to explore these 
Cimmerian regions, the Custos limits his labours to 
a single exhibition per day ; — so that all those who 
wish to accompany him assemble at the hour ap- 
pointed for opening the door, and proceed together. 

Armed with tapers, we descended a flight of steps 
to the depth of about a hundred feet below the 
surface, and entered one of the low passages leading 
to the catacombs. These vaults are the work of ages, 



1819.] PARIS CATACOMBS. 449 

having- been formed by excavating" for the stone with 
which Paris was built. They are of prodigious ex- 
tent, and there are melancholy instances to prove 
how fatally a stranger may lose himself in the la- 
byrinth of passages into which they are divided. 

To prevent a recurrence of such accidents, the 
proper route is indicated by a black line, marked 
upon the roof, which would furnish a straggler with 
a clue to retrace his steps, if he should happen to 
lose his way. 

After some time we arrived at a small black door, 
over which was the following inscription : — 

u Has ultra metas requiescant 
Beatam spem expectantes. " 

This is the entrance into the Cavern of Death, 
where the contents of the various cemeteries of Paris 
have been deposited ; and, as the door is locked 
behind you, it is difficult to prevent an involuntary 
shudder from creeping over you, at the thought of 
being shut up with— two millions of skulls ! 

Here they are — grinning all around you ; piled 
up in every form of fanciful arrangement ; though 
the common mode of stowing them is in bins — like 
bottles in a cellar; in which the thigh bones answer 
the purposes of laths. Upon the whole, it is a pain- 
ful sight. You feel as if you were guilty of profa- 
nation, by intruding upon that privacy which ought 
to be sacred — for the dead should not be made a 
spectacle to the living. We do not meet on even 
terms. They had tongues, and could sing — once ! 
but their gibes and their flashes of merriment are 

2 G 



450 PARIS CATACOMBS. [MAY 

gone ; 4f not one left to mock their own grinning ! — 
Quite chap-fallen." 

Wherever you turn, you encounter something to 
excite disagreeable sensations. In one chamber is 
a disgusting assortment of the osteological remains 
of disease and deformity; in another, the surgeon 
may study the old fashion of amputating limbs, and 
trepanning heads, in the maimed relics there col- 
lected together. In one place, the simple inscription 
of a date calls up the recollection of the massacres 
of the Revolution, marking the place where the bones 
of the victims are deposited : 

" 2 SEPTEMBRE, 1792." 

In another quarter, your eye is arrested by a sen- 
tence conceived in the worst spirit of French philoso- 
phy ; and obtruded upon you here in the worst taste — 

" Quaeris quo jaceas post obitum loco ? 
Quo non nata jacent." 

At the further extremity of the vault is a pretty 
fountain, in which some gold fish were sporting 
about, which seemed to thrive well, unconscious of 
the horrors that surrounded them. 

Though a visit to the catacombs leaves a painful 
impression, the moral effect is wholesome. You 
return to the world more disposed to be in good 
humour with yourself, and w T ith it ; — and in re-as- 
cending to the " warm precincts of the cheerful 
day" you taste the whole force of Virgil's exclama- 
tion, where he describes the intense but fruitless 
longing of his departed spirits to return to a world 
which they had wilfully quitted : — 



1819.] PARIS PALAIS LUXEMBOURG. 451 

« Quam vellent se there in alto, 

Nunc et pauperiem, et duros perferre labores ! " 

22nd. To the Palais Luxembourg. Here is the 
exhibition of the paintings of living French artists. 
The style of the modern French painters is glaring 
and harsh, and they are too fond of introducing 
prettinesses into interesting subjects. In Guerin's 
famous picture of Phcedr a and Hippolytus, you may 
count the squares of the marble pavement, and 
trace all the curious needlework with which the 
garments of the figures are embroidered. All the 
accompaniments are in the same style. Guerin, 
however, has finely imagined the characters of his 
painting. Phaedra and Hippolytus are admirable ; 
the nurse absolutely speaks, though perhaps she 
has too much the air of a kitchen-maid. Theseus's 
countenance expresses unmixed contempt — but 
surely there should be some mixture of anger. In 
the colouring of the French painters there is often 
great effect — but then it is almost always an un- 
pleasant effect : — their pictures are all glare and 
light ; they seem to despise, or to be ignorant of 
chiaroscuro — that delicate management of light 
and shade which gives to objects the relief of nature. 
David is the ringleader of this style, and he out- 
Fuselies Fuseli in the overstrained extravagance of 
his attitudes. Gerard is the most celebrated artist 
of the present day, both in history and portraits. I 
endeavoured in vain to see his Battle of Austerlitz, 
which I am told is his best work \ but I saw his 
Entrance of Henry IV. into Paris, and the portraits 
of Mademoiselle Mars, and others. There is much 
merit in his works in both kinds. 2 g 2 



452 PARIS CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES. [MAY, 

24th. Visited the Chamber of Deputies ; — a 
spacious hall of a semicircular form, handsomely 
fitted up with a profusion of marble, and decorated 
with the statues of Lyeurgus, Solon, Demosthenes, 
Brutus, Cato, and Cicero. The president's chair, 
and the desks of the secretaries, occupy the base of 
the semicircle ; in which the seats of the members 
are arranged in semicircular rows, rising one above 
the other, facing the president. The two centre 
benches on the floor, immediately opposite the 
tribune, answer to our Treasury Bench, and are 
appropriated to the ministers. Above is a roomy 
gallery for the public. Their hour of meeting cor 
responds with that of our own House of Commons, 
in less fashionable times than the present. The 
doors are opened at half-past eleven o'clock; the 
president takes the chair at one ; and their debate is 
brought to a conclusion by dinner-time. The 
chamber has not shaken off all the remains of the 
imperial stratocracy. Drums announced the en- 
trance of the president, who was followed by two 
Serjeants at arms. His dress is the simple uniform 
of the Chamber — an embroidered blue coat — with- 
out wig or gown. These adjuncts may contribute 
nothing to a native dignity of person, but they are 
not without their use in supplying the ordinary de- 
ficiencies of nature. Nothing could be less dignified 
than the appearance and manner of the French pre- 
sident, who tripped up the steps of his chair, with the 
air of a footman in haste to answer his mistress's 
bell. Private business, and the presentation of peti- 
tions, occupied the House till two o'clock ; by which 



1819.] PARIS CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES. 453 

time the ministers had taken their seats, and the pre- 
sident announced the order of the day. 

The ministers wear a uniform distinct from that 
of the Chamber ; and they have the right of speak- 
ing", but cannot vote. The assembly had rather a 
slovenly appearance ; some members being in uni- 
form, and others not ; for the costume is only strictly 
necessary to those who mean to mount the tribune. 
The debate was dull and tiresome ; the first speaker 
read his oration from a written paper, and persisted 
for half an hour, though it was plain that no person 
paid the slightest attention to a word that he ut- 
tered. Then followed an extempore orator, who 
spoke with considerable force, animation, and effect ; 
but the mounting the tribune — which is placed im- 
mediately under the president's chair, so that the 
orator necessarily turns his back upon him — has a 
bad effect; it takes away the impression of the 
speech proceeding from the immediate impulse of 
the speaker, and gives the idea of a premeditated 
harangue, which is always tedious. 

La Fayette sat on the left side of the Chamber, 
which is filled by the Radicals, or, as the French 
term them, the Liberaux ; while the opposite 
benches, on the right side, are occupied by the Ultra 
Royalist party. It is impossible not to look with 
interest at this earliest child of the Revolution — 
which has been well compared to Saturn devouring 
his children — for his very existence is a standing 
miracle ; and excites the sort of feeling produced 
by the sight of a venerable oak, that has outlived 
the fury of a storm, by which the minor trees of the 
forest have been destroyed. 



454 PARIS CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES. [MAY, 

The Count des Cazes, the popular minister of the 
day, is not more than thirty-eight years old ; being 
under the age prescribed for a deputy. He is the 
great hero of the centre, which is composed of that 
party of the Chamber called Constitutionalists, who 
are supposed to be independent. It will be happy 
for France if this party be really composed of men 
who, having no interested views to gratify, are con- 
tent to " trim the boat and sit quiet ; " and by the 
judicious disposal of their weight, prevent the vessel 
from leaning tpo much to the side of the radical 
royalists on the right, or the radical republicans on 
the left. It is such a party as this, founded on 
principles rather than men, and shifting its support 
as it may perceive danger from the encroachment of 
either of the ultra parties of the state, that can alone 
preserve a mixed constitution from being torn in 
pieces by the madness of democracy, or sinking for 
ever into the death-sleep of despotism. 

Such a body of men is especially necessary in 
France to temper the excesses of party ascendency ; 
for in France the party in power is omnipotent. 
Never was there seen such a land for ratting ; — 
nothing can equal the rapidity of the contagion ; 
which is shown in an immediate competition amongst 
all classes to range themselves on the side of the 
strongest. This utter want of party attachment has 
often enabled a daring minority, by the semblance of 
power, to frighten the nation into submission to a yoke, 
which a trifling effort would have been sufficient to 
shake off. There is nothing more surprising in the 
strange history of the French Revolution, than the 



1819.] PARIS CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES. 455 

bare-faced impudence with which a few daring* de- 
magogues disposed of the fates of the rest of their 
countrymen ; — unless it be the base and cowardly 
apathy with which the great mass submitted to the 
knife of their butchers. Let us hear how Madame 
Roland — the most amiable and the most enthusiastic 
of the partizans of liberty — expresses herself, in 
describing the horrible massacres of the prisoners in 
September, 1792 : — " Cependant, les massacres con- 
tinuerent a /' Abb aye, du Dimanche au soir, au 
Mardi matin ; a la Force, davantage ; a Bicetre 
quatre jours. Tout Paris fut temoin de ces hor- 
ribles scenes exe'cutees par un petit nombre de 
bourreaux. Tout Paris laissa faire — tout Paris fut 
maudit a mes yeux, et je n'esperai plus que la 
liberte s'etablit parmi des laches, insensibles aux 
derniers outrages qu'on puisse faire a Phumanite; 
froids spectateurs d'attentats que le courage de cin- 
quante hommes armes auroit facilement empechts. 
Le fait est que le bruit d'une pretendue con- 
spiration dans les prisons, tout invraisemblable qu'il 
fut, Pannonce affectee de Pinquietude et de la colere 
du peuple, retenait chacun dans la stupeur, et lui 
persuadait au fond de sa maison, que c'etait le 
peuple qui agissait ; lorsque de compte fait, il n'y 
avait pas deux cents brigands pour la totalite de 
cette infame expedition. Aussi ce n'est pas la pre- 
miere nuit qui m'etonne : mais quatre jours ! — et 
des curieux alloient voir ce spectacle ! — Non je ne 
connais rien dans les annales des peuples les plus 
barbares, de comparable a ces atrocites." It was the 



456 PARIS THEATRE FRANC AIS. [MAY, 

same culpable apathy, the same selfish timidity, in 
the majority of the Convention, which enabled the 
originally contemptible faction of the Mountain to 
subdue, proscribe, and condemn all its opponents. 
The same facility of submission to any yoke has 
been lately exemplified in the most striking manner 
in the exits and entrances of rival kings ; which have 
been conducted at Paris after the same quiet and 
bloodless manner, in which those things are ge- 
nerally exhibited on the stage. Madame de Stael, 
in describing the French character, does not omit 
this striking trait. " Les Francois," says she, 
" sont peu disposes a la guerre civile, parceque chez 
eux la majorite entraine presque toujours la minorite; 
le parti qui passe pour le plus fort, devient bien vite 
tout puissant, car tout le monde s'y re unit." 

26th. In the evening to the Theatre Francais. 
When a favourite piece is performed, it is necessary 
to be at the doors some time before they are opened. 
But the candidates for places have the good sense 
to perceive the inconvenience of thronging in a dis- 
orderly manner, and the established rule is to form 
a la queue as it is called ; that is, in a column of two 
a-breast, and every one is obliged to take his place 
in the rear, in the order in which he arrives. This 
is done with as much order and regularity as would 
be observed in a regiment of soldiers; in conse- 
quence of which, the whole business is conducted 
without the smallest tumult, and with ease to every 
one. It is true that the gens d'armes in attendance 
have authority to enforce this rule, if there should be 



1819.] PARIS THEATRE FRANCAIS. 457 

any person so unreasonable as to refuse compliance ; 
but still great credit is due to the French for their 
ready adoption of what is rational. The play was 
Joanne d' Arc. Mademoiselle Duchesnois was the 
heroine, and a most alarmingly ugly heroine she 
made; but bodily defects are of little importance if 
the soul be of the right temper. When that is the 
case — 

" Pritchard 's genteel, and Garrick 's six feet high." 

Her face, however plain, is capable of consider- 
able variety of expression; and, what is of more 
importance than beauty, there is a great deal of 
mind in her countenance ; for this is absolutely 
necessary to command our interest and sympathy. 
Who can sympathize with a simpleton, even if it be 
a pretty simpleton ? Duchesnois drew down much 
applause, and she deserved it; — she feels justly, and 
has the faculty of expressing what she feels. This 
is the extent of her merit ; but here, where there is 
so much unnatural declamation, her style appears to 
the greatest advantage. 

Mademoiselle Volnais, for example, with a plump 
unmeaning pretty face, chants out her part, with no 
more apparent feeling or understanding than a 
parrot. 

La Fond, who is a great favourite with the au- 
dience, played Talbot with something that was very 
like spirit and dignity ; but he can never conceal 
the actor ; he is all " strut and bellow ;" and his 
voice, though it has great compass, is harsh and un- 
pleasant. The political allusions of which the play 



458 PARIS THEATRE FRANCAIS. [MAY, 

is full, particularly the prophetic denunciations of 
Joanne against England, were eagerly seized by the 
audience, and rancor ously applauded. It must re- 
quire all the vanity of the French, to sit and hear, 
as the audience did with patience and complacency, 
the most fulsome and disgusting flattery addressed to 
their national feelings, in the vilest and worst taste 
of clap-traps. The very gallery in England has 
grown out of its liking for this sort of stuff. 

A new after-piece followed — " Les Femmes Poli- 
tique* ;" a pretty trifle, written in elegant language, 
which was charmingly delivered. Mademoiselle Mars 
and Mademoiselle Dupuis played delightfully ; Bap- 
tiste aine looked and spoke like the old gentleman 
he represented ; and Monrose excited a laugh with- 
out descending to buffoonery and caricature. This 
sort of conversational French comedy is delightful ; 
— it is nature in her best dress — polite — well-bred — 
and sparkling. 

But, in comedies where there is more room for the 
exhibition of comic humour, the French actors are 
perhaps inferior to our own. We shall in vain look 
for parallels of what Lewis was, or what Munden 
and Dowton are ; and even with respect to Made- 
moiselle Mars, excellent as she is in the first and 
highest walks of comedy, for which she seems de- 
signed by nature — being very beautiful, very grace- 
ful, and perfectly well-bred — yet, in characters of 
archness and humour, she might put a little more 
heart, and a great deal more mind into her represen- 
tations. We miss the force, the richness, and the 
warmth of Mrs. Jordan's acting, and the exquisite 



1819.] PARIS THEATRE FRANCOIS. 459 

point that she had the art of giving to comic dialogue ; 
which only wanted the embellishments and good- 
breeding of the French Thalia, to constitute a per- 
fect actress. 

The point of perfection would perhaps be found 
somewhere between the styles of the two nations. 
To take an example from the Tartuffe ; — the famous 
scene between Tartuffe and Elmire is scarcely played 
up to the intention of the author by Damas and 
Mademoiselle Mars, and it certainly might be coloured 
higher, without overstepping the modesty of nature. 
Dowton, in Cantwell, may go a little too far with 
Lady Lambert — and yet who can think so that re- 
members the effect produced by his management of 
the interview — but Damas, in Tartuffe, does not go 
far enough with Elmire. The scene " comes tardy 
off: 55 — bienseance, when carried too far, is a mill- 
stone round the neck of tragedy and comedy. Con- 
greve says well, that a scene on the stage must re- 
present nature, but in warmer colours than it exists 
in reality. It is in Moliere particularly, perhaps 
exclusively, that the French comedians seem to fall 
short of the author; for Moliere is the most humorous 
of all their writers. He is the Fielding of France, 
and there is a richness and a raciness about him which 
are sometimes frittered away in the representation. 

It might be curious to inquire the cause of the 
universal decline of the art of acting, during the 
present age. France has only two performers that 
are much above mediocrity; but they are excellent; 
— Talma in tragedy, and Mars in comedy. As to 
all the rest, though many have a considerable portion 



460 PARTS THE LOUVRE. [MAY, 

of merit, we may pass them over in silence, except 
Potier ; who is, as he deserves to be, a prodigious 
favourite in farce and caricature, — but we possess a 
better edition of Potier than the French themselves, 
in our own inimitable Liston. 

The French Opera is the most splendid theatre in 
Paris ; but protect me from French singing ! — espe- 
cially if it be serious singing. Arthur Young, in 
speaking of French singing, describes it as " the dis- 
tortions of embodied dissonance," and Rousseau in- 
veighs against the " lamentable chant Francais" as 
bearing more resemblance " aux cris de la colique 
qu'aux transports des passions;" and in their choruses 
there is a grand roar-royal, as if they all had the 
colic together. The light airs of their comic operas 
are however very pleasing ; and there is at least this 
merit in their singing, that you can hear what they 
say. The airs of Gretry are delightful. The ballet 
of the French Opera is perfect ; — in dancing, as well 
as cooking, I believe we must acknowledge our in- 
feriority, nor attempt to rival the French in agility 
of heels. I have seen, in the gardens of Tivoli, a 
pas de trois performed by two male and one female 
dancer upon stilts. The pirouttes on these seven- 
leagued legs were inexpressibly ridiculous ; but, if 
difficulty be the great desideratum in dancing, this 
style, of all others, ought to be entitled to the loudest 
applause. 

27th. The Louvre, stripped as it has been of the 
spoils which Buonaparte and his myrmidons had 
collected from all parts of Europe, is still a noble 
collection. The gallery itself — 500 yards in length 
— lined with pictures, is a magnificent sight. 



1819.] PARIS THE LOUVRE. 461 

There are still remaining" some beautiful specimens 
of Raphael, Murillo, Titian, and Salvator Rosa. The 
gaps, occasioned by the restoration of the spoils of 
Italy, have been filled up with the Luxembourg pic- 
tures of Rubens, who has thrown away a vast deal 
of labour and fine colouring in hopeless and incurable 
allegories ; and by the sea-pieces of Vernet, which 
are so beautiful, that we cannot, while looking at 
them, regret the absence of any pictures whatever. 
His views of the sea-ports combine all the beauties 
of painting with the most accurate fidelity of resem- 
blance. But it is in his fancy pieces that he gives 
the reins to his imagination, and indulges in every 
variety of tint and contrast ; and it is difficult to say 
whether he is most admirable in the warm glow of 
sunshine — the pale silver gleams of moonlight — the 
gloomy gathering of a fog — or the terrific horrors of 
a tempest. 

Nicholas Poussin is the great hero of the French 
school of painting. There is a hardness of manner 
in the generality of his works, which injures their 
effect — but his Deluge is sublime. There is a dark 
and terrible solemnity about it, admirably suited to 
the subject. The universal desolation is pictured bv 
a selection of a few instances of the most affecting 
images, which do honour to the heart of the painter ; 
who represents love — conjugal and parental love — as 
enduring through all trials, exerting its energy to 
the last, and overwhelmed only in the end — by the 
destruction of all things. One would almost fancy 
Poussin had wished to illustrate the sentiment of 
Solomon — " Many waters cannot quench love, neither 
can floods drown it." 



462 PARIS FRENCH WOMEN. [MAY, 

There is a picture in the Louvre by Lairesse, from 
which I think Sir Joshua Reynolds must have bor- 
rowed the idea of Garrick between Comedy and 
Tragedy. 

The composition and arrangement of the figures 
are so precisely the same, that the resemblance can 
scarcely be accidental. The subject is Hercules be- 
tween Virtue and Vice ; and Sir Joshua has not even 
been at the pains of adding legs to the half-lengths 
of the originals ; — though he has certainly improved 
upon Laircsse's Vice, in his exquisitely charming 
figure of Thalia. 

The Louvre collection of statues may still boast 
some of the most beautiful specimens of ancient 
sculpture. The Borghese collection, amongst which 
are the famous Fighting Gladiator, and the Herma- 
phrodite, was bought and added to the National 
Museum by Napoleon. 

28th. Before I leave Paris, I ought to record my 
impressions of the French women ; who must, I 
think, yield the palm to their English and Italian 
neighbours. They want the freshness, and retiring 
delicacy of the first ; and the dignity, and volup- 
tuous enthusiasm of the second. Whatever beauty 
there is amongst them is confined to the upper classes, 
and the Grisettes. In passing through the country, 
I was everywhere appalled by the squalid faces of 
the peasantry — so unlike the romantic pictures of 
Sterne. The point in which the Parisian ladies 
claim the most decided superiority over their Eng- 
lish sisters is in the elegance of their tournure ; — 
and for this claim there mav be some foundation. 



1819.] PARIS FRENCH WOMEN. 463 

The French ladies, however, sometimes carry their 
pretty mincing airs too far ; but even this is better 
than the opposite extreme, which is occasionally 
exemplified in the striding gait of an Englishwoman. 
What Rousseau said of the Parisiennes, and of the 
silly spirit of imitation which induces other nations 
to deform their figures by adopting the deformities 
of French fashions, may well be applied to the pre- 
sent day ; when every Englishwoman is at the pains 
of making herself hump-backed, for no other reason, 
as it would seem, than that the native beauty of her 
form may be reduced to the French standard of 
symmetry. " Menues," says Rousseau, speaking of 
the Parisiennes, " plutot que bien faites, elles n'ont 
pas les tailles fines; aussi s'attachent-elles volon tiers 
aux modes qui la deguisement ; en quoi je trouve 
assez simples les femmes des autres pays, de vouloir 
bien des modes faites pour cacher les defautes qu'elles 
n'ont pas." 

It is a curious fact that, in 1814, the English 
ladies were so possessed with a rage for imitating 
even the deficiencies of their French sisterhood, that 
they actually had recourse to violent means, even to 
the injury of their health, to compress their beautiful 
bosoms as flatly as possible, and destroy every vestige 
of those charms, for which, of all other women, they 
are perhaps the most indebted to nature. 

The French women appear, what I believe they 
really are, kind, good-humoured, and affectionate ; 
but light, fickle, capricious, and trifling. Without 
having thrown off entirely the robe of virtue, they 
wear it so loosely as to admit of freedoms, which 



464 PARIS FRENCH WOMEN. [MAY, 

would shock the delicacy of more reserved manners. 
No woman in Paris, I believe, would feel offended at 
any proposals, if made dhine certaine maniere, et d'un 
air bien crnnme il faut ! — though it by no means fol- 
lows that the proposals would be accepted ; for, as 
Mrs. Sullen says in the play, "it happens with women 
as with men ; the greatest talkers are often the 
greatest cowards, and there is a reason for it : — those 
spirits evaporate in prattle, which might do more 
mischief if they took another course." But there 
can be no descriptions of national characters without 
exceptions ; — Mesdames Ney and Lavalette, in these 
days, and Mesdames La Roche Jacquelin and Roland 5 
in the days of the Revolution, may challenge a com- 
parison with the fairest names that ever adorned the 
annals of womanhood. 

Matrimony, if one may take the evidence of the 
journals, seems to be a regular business of adver- 
tisement. I select three out of eight in one paper ; 
— and all too on the part of the ladies. 

" Une demoiselle bien nee et aimable, ayant 
120,000 francs de biens, desire epouser un homme 
age et riche." 

" Une demoiselle de 24 ans, jolie et d'une educa- 
tion distinguee, ayant 40,000 francs comptant, et 
par la suite, 200,000 francs, desire epouser un jeune 
homme aimable, et ayant de la fortune." 

" Une demoiselle, de 19 ans, sans fortune, mais 
jolie, aimable, et bien eleve'e, desire epouser un 
homme age, et assez aise pour pouvoir faire quelque 
bien a sa mere." 

Perhaps age means no more than our word aged, 
as applied to a horse. 



1819.] PARIS GAMING TABLES. 465 

This may suffice as a specimen ; — on the part of 
the gentlemen the paper offered no advertisement 
whatever. 

29th. The following document, taken from the 
Bib I to the que Historique, will show the fearful extent 
to which gaming is carried in Paris at present. 

BUDGET DES JEUX PUBLICS. 



ETAT 


DES 


5 FRAIS ANNUELS 


DES 


JEUX 


DE 


PARIS 






7 Tables de Trente-et 


-un. 










9 De Roulette. 














1 Passe-Dix. 














1 Craps. 
1 Creps. 
1 Biribi. 











20 

These twenty tables are distributed about Paris ; 
the minimum established as a stake, varies from a 
Napoleon to a sous ; so that every man may find a 
table suited to his fortune. At some, women are 
admitted, and it is needless to describe the effect 
which such institutions must have upon the morals 
of the town. The current expenses of these establish- 
ments are calculated at no less a sum than 1,551,480 
francs per annum. And in addition to these there is 
the " bail" or duty to government, 6,000,000 francs ; 
and the bonus for the bail 166,666 francs; making 
together the enormous sum of 7,718,146 francs. 

From documents it appears that the average gain 
of the tables is 800,000 francs per month, amounting 
to 9,600,000 francs per annum ; which, after sub- 

2 H 



466 - PARIS NAPOLEON. [MAY, 

tracting the expenses, 7,718,146 francs, will leave a 
clear profit of 1,881,854 francs. And yet, in spite 
of this unanswerable logic of figures and facts, 
there are every day fresh victims, who are infatuated 
enough to believe that it is possible to counter- 
balance the advantage which the bank possesses, by 
a judicious management of the power that the player 
has of altering his stake. This is a fatal error. For 
though it is common to talk of the uncertainty of 
chance ; yet, in an unlimited series, chance becomes 
certainty ; and the doctrine of the chances is founded 
upon the same general and immutable laws which 
direct all the operations of matter. There is a little 
pamphlet published at Paris, which ought to be 
read by every man who needs to be convinced that 
he who plays against the table must, at the long 
run, be made a beggar. 

30th. The " zeal to destroy " is busily at work all 
over Paris, in endeavouring to obliterate Napoleon's 
renown ; and indeed to convert the imperial insignia 
into emblems in honour of the Bourbons. Thus, the 
N. is universally changed into an H. to pay a com- 
pliment to Henri Quatre, of which he has no need ; 
and the Bee is transformed into a Jleur de lis. 
The has reliefs too, which commemorate the 
achievements of the ex-Emperor, are torn down 
without mercy. There is something pitiful in this 
disfigurement, which does little credit to those who 
ordered it. It is not only ill-judged, as being calcu- 
lated to engrave deeper on the tablets of the memory 
the recollection of those exploits, which are thus 
unworthily treated ; but the attempt is manifestly 



1819,] FOUNTAIN OF THE ELEPHANT. 467 

impossible. All Paris savours of Napoleon; for 
instance — what can be done with the column in the 
Place Vendome ?— can it be supposed that the white 
flag on the top of it will efface the recollection that 
this pillar was composed of 1,200 pieces of cannon, 
taken by Napoleon at the battle of Atisterlitz ? 

This subject has been well treated in the letter to 
the Duke of Wellington, which was attributed to 
Fouche : — " Quand on a ete subjugue par Napoleon, 
il-y-a peu de jugement a le dt'nigrer — plus on cherche 
a l'abaisser plus on s'avilit soi-meme ; — le voyageur 
sourit de pitie en voyant effacer a grands frais les 
aigles, qui se trouvent sur les monumens qu'il a 
repares ou e'leves : — comme si la memoire des faits 
devait perir avec les aigles!' 5 The same work of 
destruction has been carried on at the Pantheon^ 
where the fine mythological bas reliefs have been 
removed, though the example of St. Peter's at Rome 
might be pleaded in their justification ; and the 
inscription on the frieze of the portico — " Aux grands 
hommes la Patrie reconnoissante" — is about to give 
place to some more loyal and legitimate motto. 

Amongst the unfinished works of Napoleon is the 
Fountain which he intended should be erected on 
the site of the Bastile. This fountain was to consist 
of an enormous elephant, the model of which is now 
to be seen in plaster of Paris, on the spot where the 
Bastile formerly stood. It is seventy-two feet in 
height ; the jet d'eau is through the nostrils of his 
trunk ; the reservoir, in the tower upon his back ; 
and one of his legs contains the staircase, for ascend- 
ing to the large room within his body. The Elephant 

2 h2 



463 PARIS THE DEAF AND DUMB. [JUNE, 

was to be executed in bronze, with tusks of silver, 
surrounded by lions of bronze ; who were to expec- 
torate the water from one cistern to another. It is 
remarkable, how little the persons who live close to 
the Bastile know of the particulars which happened 
at the taking' of that place by the populace — an 
event which happened so short a time ago. And, 
in the accounts which have been published, there is 
scarcely a circumstance which is told in the same 
manner by any two narrators. 

From the site of the Bastile, I went to the manu- 
factory of Gobelin Tapestry. It is extremely curious 
to see the operations of this manufacture. The 
material on which the tapestry is worked consists 
merely of single threads ; which are placed upon a 
frame, over which the workman leans. The outline 
of the pattern is marked in black chalk upon the 
threads ; and the worsted being ready rolled, the 
artist then works it in, in the various proper shades, 
with no other direction to guide him than a coloured 
model which hangs near him. The extraordinary 
part of the work is, that he produces the desired 
effect, using the most brilliant colours and the soft- 
est gradations of tints, with the happiest use of light 
and shadow, without looking at the fair side of his 
work in its progress ; — for it is the inside which is 
always next to him. 

June 5th. Visited the Institution for the Deaf 
and Dumb; — the most interesting of all the esta- 
blishments in Paris. The system of education, 
invented by the benevolent Abbe de l'Epee for the 
education of these helpless children, shut out, as it 



1819.] PARIS THE DEAF AND DUMB. 469 

would seem, by nature, from the chief sources of 
intelligence, has been prosecuted with all success by 
the Abbe Sicard. The difficulty obviously consists 
in establishing a medium of communication with 
the mind of the pupil. The Abbe de PEpee, who, 
without preferment, or patronage, or other support 
than that of his own patrimonial means, devoted his 
life and fortune to the maintenance and education 
of a large domestic establishment of deaf and dumb, 
surmounted the difficulty, and invented a method 
of conveying ideas to the mind, by means of visible 
signs. This is done by writing the names of things, 
and, by a regular system of signs, establishing a 
connexion between the written words, and the ideas 
to be excited by them. This ingenious system would 
appear at first sight to be almost impracticable ; but 
as the Abbe well observed, " the connexion between 
ideas and the articulate sounds which are the ordi- 
nary means by which they are excited in the mind, 
is quite as arbitrary as that between these ideas and 
the written characters he used to represent them to 
the eye." 

The mind once stored with ideas, and a channel 
of communication established, the pupil is soon 
taught — what may be called the mechanical part of 
his education — the use and exercise of the organs of 
speech ; and as a privation of any of the senses is 
found to produce a greater quickness in those that 
remain, the sense of sight becomes in the deaf and 
dumb so acute, that they can see the answer of the 
person with whom they converse, by observing the 
motion of the lips. 



470 PARIS THE DEAF AND DUMB. [jUNE, 

Some of the definitions, which are recorded as the 
impromptu answers of Massieu and Leclerc, two of 
M. Sicard's most celebrated pupils, at public ex- 
aminations, are at once accurate and beautiful. To 
instance a few; Eternite — un jour sans hier ni 
demain ; Reconnoissance — la memoire du caeur ; 
Les sens — des porte-idees. 

Many of the definitions of these pupils have been 
recorded ; but there are none more worthy of record 
than the answers which they made to the following* 
question : " Quelle difference y-a-t-il entre le desir 
et l'esperance?" Massieu* s reply is remarkable for 
metaphysical acuteness, and nice discrimination : 
u Le de*ir est une inclination du cceur ; Vesper ance 
— une confiance de l'esprit." Leclerc's answer dis- 
plays more imagination, and is indeed less a defini- 
tion than an illustration ; — but it is a beautiful 
illustration : " Le desir est un arbre en feuilles ; 
Pesperance — un arbre en fleurs ; la jouissance — un 
arbre en fruits." 

The intellectual attainments of these persons fur- 
nish the strongest argument against those doctrines 
which would persuade us that the soul of man is 
only the result of the organs of sense. If any far- 
ther argument were needed to convince us of the 
immaterial nature of the thinking being within us, 
we might surely find it in the example afforded by 
the deaf and dumb ; which seems to prove that the 
soul's existence is independent of the senses; — 
though their excitement may be required to call out 
its powers, and a certain material apparatus be ne- 
cessarv to the manifestation of its faculties. 



1819.] LEAVE PARIS FOR DIEPPE. 471 

It has been stated, as a singular coincidence, that 
a deaf and dumb pupil, being asked to define his 
idea of the sound of a trumpet, compared it to the 
colour red ; as Sanderson, the famous blind Mathe- 
matical Professor, used to explain his idea of the 
colour red, by likening it to the sound of a trumpet. 

Drove afterwards to the Hotel Dieu, one of the 
largest hospitals in Paris. Every thing was neat 
and clean ; the furniture of the beds was white, and 
looked fresh and wholesome. In walking through 
the wards, though there was much to afflict the 
eye, there was nothing to offend any other sense. 

The French boast much of their surgical attain- 
ments ; and indeed their campaigns must have af- 
forded them the most ample opportunities of prac- 
tice and experience. 

One improvement, I believe, they may have intro- 
duced, which has been found of extensive benefit in 
military practice; — that of immediate amputation 
before inflammation takes place ; in opposition to 
the old established system of waiting till the inflam- 
mation had subsided. 

7th. Left Paris for Dieppe, travelling the lower 
road to Rouen ; which passes along the banks of 
the Seine, and abounds more in picturesque pro- 
spect, than any other which I have yet seen in 
France — though this is not saying much in its 
favour. But the view of Rouen, from a height 
about a league from it, is very fine, and might be 
admired in any part of England. Normandy, in- 
deed, in many of its features, bears a striking resem- 
blance to England ; and the likeness increases as 



472 FRENCH CHARACTER. [JUNE, 

you advance from Rouen towards Dieppe, through 
the green and fertile valley, rich in pastures and 
orchards, and peopled with the cotton-workers, by 
means of whom the French hope to rival our long- 
established superiority in that manufacture. 

Having now arrived at Dieppe, the last stage of 
the French territory, I would willingly part with 
them in good humour. There are some amiable 
traits of character, which are universally prevalent, 
and must strike the most common observer. They 
are, almost without exception, a temperate people ; 
and, with wine at command, which may be bought 
for almost nothing, they rarely drink to excess. It 
must be confessed too, that they are much kinder 
and gentler in their treatment of the brute part of 
the creation, than the lower orders of our own 
country ; and indeed the appearance of the animals 
confirms this opinion ; for you never see those 
maimed, broken-kneed, miserable objects — the vic- 
tims of ill-temper and ill-treatment — which so often 
shock one in England. 

Again — if the French have a much greater share 
of vanity than their insular neighbours, they are at 
least untainted with that ludicrous sort of pride 
which thrives so prodigiously in England — setting a 
fool in fermentation, and swelling him out with in- 
flated ideas of self-importance ; — for no one here is 
above speaking civilly to his inferior, how great 
soever the distance between them. The French too 
in many instances exhibit a praiseworthy disregard 
of outward appearance, to which the English, from 
pride or mauvaise honte, practise so obsequious a 



1819.] dieppe. 473 

submission. In France no man need fear sinking 
in the estimation of his friends from the shabbiness 
of his coat, the height of his lodgings, or the fashion 
of his equipage. 

If I have seen little else to mention with com- 
mendation, it may be that I have been blinded by 
national prejudice ; for I believe it is difficult, if not 
impossible, to acquire that complete impartiality 
which is so necessary in the pursuit of truth. It 
would seem that a man's head was like a bowl, and 
that he came into the world with a certain bias 
infixed by the hand of nature herself. This bias in 
an Englishman's head disposes him to dislike every 
thing belonging to a Frenchman. I confess, till I 
had resided in France, I used to think that this 
prejudice was carried much too far; but I leave it 
with a most devout wish that it may never be my 
misfortune to reside in it again ; and a very strong 
hope that the national feeling, which has so long 
kept us a distinct people in all our habits, feelings, 
and principles, may long continue to be cherished ; 
and that the sound and sufficient sentiment of love 
of country may never be laughed out of counte- 
nance by the vain and visionary nonsense of uni- 
versal philanthropy. 

9th. Dieppe. Labor ultimus ! — Ascended the 
cliff to snuff up the gale that comes from Old Eng- 
land. " Oh England ! England ! thou land of 
liberty — thou climate of good sense — thou tenderest 
of mothers and gentlest of nurses," — how I long to 
embrace thee again ! And yet now that 1 am 
within twelve hours' sail of thee, and that I can 



474 DIEPPE PACKET. [JUNE, 

approach thee with amended health and brighter 
prospects, I feel a strange mixture of apprehension 
and anxiety. Who has not felt, though parting 
from friends is the severest of all trials, that meet- 
ing again is not without its disquietudes; especially 
after a long absence from those with whom we have 
heen in the constant habit of thinking, talking, and 
acting ? In such a situation a man fears lest'he 
should find his friends, or lest his friends should 
find him, changed ; lest absence should have made 
such a gap in the chain which united them in the 
bonds of affection, that it may be doubtful whether 
the links will ever fit in together again. I believe 
I was led into this train of thought by a passage 
in^4/a/a, a wild little book of delightfully romantic 
nonsense, by Chateaubriand : — " Mais que parle-je 
de la puissance des amities de la terre ? Illusion ! 
Chimere ! Reve d'une imagination blessee ! Vanite 
des vanites ! Si un homme revenait a la lumiere 
quelques annexes apres sa mort, je doute qu'il fat 
revu avec joie par ceux-la memes qui ont verse le 
plus de larmes a sa memoire ; — tant on forme vite 
des autres liaisons — tant Pinconstance est naturelle 
a l'homme ! " But the packet is ready, and the 
wind is favourable. 

June 10th. On board. The cliffs of Dieppe are 
as white as those of Albion ; a name which we 
have been taught was applied to our own island 
from something peculiar and remarkable in the 
colour of its rocks. This similarity of materials 
strengthens the notion that, at some remote period, 
the sea burst through the straits, and divided us 



1819.] conclusion. 475 

from the continent ; — a thought which is well ex- 
pressed by Mason, when he makes old Ocean tear 
Britannia 

u from reluctant Gaul , 

And bid her be his queen." 

Long may she retain her sceptre ! — and long 
may she continue to inspire such feelings as now 
rise within me in approaching her shores, and 
maVe me exult in the reflection that I was born 
an Englishman: — 



THE END. 



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